


Borrowed Time

by results_may_vary



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 20GAYTEEN, :(, Alcohol, Bisexual Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Pietro Maximoff, Canonical Character Death, Colorful Like Gay Because This Book Has A Lot Of Gay Later On, Drinking & Talking, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gen, I Mean Aside From The Colorful Language, I'm Bad At Tagging, If This Were A Movie It Would Be PG13, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nonsexual, Pietro Maximoff Is Gay, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Fluff, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, You Have To Get Through The Straight Stuff Though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/results_may_vary/pseuds/results_may_vary
Summary: There was always something so curious about death. It seemed to follow Wanda around all her life. Her mother, her father, and now her brother... but it seems her luck as made a turn for the better. Suddenly, life has smiled down on her. It has given back what Death has taken away, and now Wanda can see her brother before her, not any less confused about it than she is.{Updated sporadically because I sometimes forget I have this account; I know it's an old prompt but IW bums me out}





	1. One More Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda goes with Clint on a car ride to join the Barton household, but nothing is anything like what she's used to.

The trees passed by in a blur. As for Wanda, she sat unmoving, unblinking. Her eyes didn't even flick from tree to tree. She was completely numb, and she feared to move. Ever since Pietro's death, she hadn't been able to move without feeling needles poke into every millimeter of her skin. Her lungs barely wanted to work, and she sometimes wished they would just shut off so she could see him again.

Clint glances at her and turns the radio up, since he had caught her listening to the song on the radio a few days before, "Hey, don't you like this song?"

Wanda just purses her lips and felt her head get light, "I used to like it... Pietro didn't like it, he said the singer's voice sounded like she was afraid..."

Clint turns the music back down.

"I'm sorry..." he sighs. He gently reaches over and takes her hand. "What do you feel?"

"I feel sick..." she says. "Nausea... headaches... my limbs feel..." she stops herself. "You probably don't care..."

"No, I do care," he says. "I... I miss him too, okay? But I have three little ones who are looking forward to seeing their new Auntie Wanda. I think you'll like Nathaniel. He's just a newborn, he's still in his cutest stage."

Wanda smiles softly at the thought, despite chills continually sending waves up and down her back. She takes a deep breath and lays her head down on the door. She did like little kids, and babies were the epitome of little kids. They were small and helpless, and so, so cute. She had always wanted to have children. Clint turns the music up again after the song Pietro didn't like ends. She was pulled from her thoughts by the noise, and she looks at him with a bit of a worried look. She whispers softly, "Clint... why are you bringing me to your home?"

Clint just shrugs, not saying a word.

After about a minute of some shitty song playing on the radio, he drives through a small town and says, "We gotta stop for gas... you can go into the gas station and get something to eat or drink or something."

He pulls into a gas station and hands Wanda a ten dollar bill. She bites her lip softly and gets out of the car.

"No booze, though!" Clint calls. Wanda rolls her eyes as she walks into the gas station. It felt pretty good to stretch her legs, especially since she kept them so close to her chest throughout the whole ride. Once inside, she just took a second and stretched her arms too. The whole gas station smelled like piss and Febreze, but Wanda honestly didn't care. She then gets to the fridge where they kept all their drinks. Her eyes hover over the beer and a small smile goes on her face. Clint had given her one instruction, and as much as she hated the taste of beer, she kind of wanted just to piss him off. She then moves on and looks at the other drinks. They were mostly energy drinks and sports drinks, neither of which appealed to her. She keeps walking and finally comes upon something she actually would drink, an orange cream soda. They didn't have them in Sokovia, but she remembered that, during their vacation to Istanbul when she was eight, she had one. They were pretty good, from what she remembered. Pietro had tried a root beer for the first time and it terrified Wanda, since she thought it was actual beer. She remains silent and expressionless as she grabs the bottle.

By the time she had bought it, some candy and returned to the car, twenty minutes had passed, since she had taken a while to pick out her candy as well. Clint was texting his wife and looks at Wanda, "Did you stop a robbery or something?"

Wanda rolls her eyes, "I just couldn't make up my mind..."

Clint starts driving again, saying, "We're only about an hour away. You can take a nap if you want, but you'll have to be alert when we get there."

Wanda nods slowly and uses her hexes to open her drink, since she never trusted the tops on soda bottles. She turns up the music and doesn't notice Clint look at her, since she already seemed to be healing a bit. That made Clint smile. Maybe all she needed was to get away from that facility. She had been cooped up inside there for days, and it seemed that an orange soda was enough to get her pretty happy. Clint rolls down both windows, making her eyes seem to light up just a little bit. She puts her arm out the window and closes her eyes, letting the wind hit her face. She was quiet for a moment, mostly still, before Clint feels someone touch his arm. He hears a soft voice say, "Thank you..."

Clint looks at Wanda with a soft smile as she pulls her hand away, feeling the wind again. As odd as it is, the wind made her nauseous, but the same type of nauseous that she always got when her brother used to carry her. It was a bittersweet feeling, and she yearned to feel it again, to be reminded of how he felt.

 

When the wind ceased beating against Wanda's face, she slowly sat up. She looked around, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light before she finally saw the house ahead of her. She furrows her eyebrows, "Are we here?"

"Yep," he says as he puts the car in park. Wanda slowly gets out of the car.

"Should we go in, then?" She looks at the man. Clint noticed how her blissful demeanor had fizzled out, leaving behind a look of slight fear and the familiar numbness in her eyes. He sighs.

"Yeah. I'll get your bags, but the others are already inside. Go ahead," he says. He watches the brunette leave, tentatively walking to the house.

As Wanda enter's the house's threshold, she feels the sun dance on her skin. It felt soft and inviting, but also burnt a little. She goes inside as soon as possible and was immediately met with two children running right past her, hurrying out to greet their father. Wanda starts looking around with her arms hugging her torso, feeling awkward. The whole room smelled like cinnamon and sawdust, an odd combination, but it was kind of comforting. It was a mix of neutral tones that were surprisingly calming, and small splashes of color, like the assorted Hot Wheels that were left about, or a broken Lego house under a chair. The lounge was mostly empty, spare for Natasha, who Wanda surprisingly ill-conversational with. Whenever they spoke, it was because they needed to. The reason why was a complete mystery to her, to both of them, in fact. Wanda wasn't in the mood to talk, so she was quite thankful for that.

Soon a woman, obviously Laura based on her recently deflated belly, approached Wanda, smiling, "Hey. We don't have enough rooms, so it looks like you'll have to either bunk with someone else or find a couch..."

"Laura, we worked it out," the voice of Steve Rogers says from a hallway. "Tony will be bunking with me, Wanda will be taking his old room. We have it all set up."

Wanda stays quiet and just shrugs without saying a word. She frankly just didn't want to speak, since every conversation she had seemed to end in awkward silence to her being reminded of her brother. God, she missed her brother...

Clint walks into the house, and the loud, obnoxious squeak from the porch door pulled her out of her thoughts. It then snaps closed at the same volume. He looks at the door and then at Laura, saying, "I guess we have something to fix."

She walks over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "Fine. But after that, no more projects."

"I mean, we could use a little more water pressure..." he says. "I could install a new water heater..."

Laura playfully glares and gently hits the back of his head, "Fine."

Wanda watched with a soft smile. They were kind of cute, she thought. She then sees a little girl run in, with her hair in a tight and neat bun on top of her head.

"Daddy! Daddy! Look what Auntie Nat did! She said I can start super spy training now that I have super spy hair!" She grins.

"That's great, Lila," Clint chuckles. Wanda keeps watching, smiling softly. Clint looks at Wanda and says. "Meet Aunt Wanda. She'll be staying with us for a while."

"Aunt Wanda?" Lila asks. "Cool! Can she show me how to be an Avenger?"

"I'm not so sure..." Clint teases. "She's more trained in magic than combat... why don't you show her, Wanda?"

Wanda smiles softly and puts a hand near Lila's face. As she spun a hex in her hands, Lila's eyes widen in amazement. She hears a soft 'Woah...' escape the child's lips before she dismisses the hexes. Wanda was grinning softly, despite the bags hanging from under her eyes. A new thought made its way into her head: Yeah, maybe this place would be good for her.

The redhead herself ran downstairs, a wide grin on her face as she had a boy, a little older than Lila, on her back. She was laughing as she says, "Help! I'm under attack!"

Wanda smiles a little wider, despite her and Natasha not exactly being on great terms. After Wanda stole Nat's jacket for the battle, she wasn't forgiven.

Clint looks at the boy, "C'mon Cooper, let's get off of her, alright?"

Cooper gets off, then Lila starts chasing him. After they leave the room, Natasha sits down, panting a little. She looks at Clint, "Has he gotten bigger since I was last here?"

"No, I don't think so," Clint chuckles. Wanda takes this opportunity to grab her bags and search around for her room. "Maybe you're out of practice."

She goes to a room without anyone in it and puts her bag down at the foot of the bed. She then closes the door and goes to the bathroom to inspect her features. She looks in the mirror and gently presses her cheekbones, then on her eye bags. They weren't too bad, but she looked almost like she had been punched. They were dark and deep, and she thought they ruined her complexion. She glances at the bed again, wondering if the house would be quiet enough for her to take a nap.

Her question was promptly answered as she heard the sound of an infant crying.

"Great..." she murmurs softly. The walls were thin, and she could tell that the baby was quite a few rooms away. Since she didn't hear anyone else move to help. She follows the sound and sees a baby lying in a cradle. She walks to the infant and picks him up gently, holding him against her and swaying softly, making him calm down. As he squirms gently, she slowly walks around the room. Wanda notices a small bib on the changing table, a familiar name on it. She reads it out loud. "Nathaniel Pietro Barton... huh..."

She looks at the infant, who was almost asleep again. She then walks back to the cradle and lays him down again, saying with a hint of spite, "Of course you're named that... of course..."

She sniffles and leaves the room, since Nathaniel was calm again. She returns to her room and lays down on the bed. Maybe it would be better if she just went to sleep... maybe that's what she needed. Maybe she just needed some rest. Yeah, she just needed rest.

As she closes her eyes, she hears a crash from downstairs. Clint had broken a lamp after bumping into a table. It was followed by a loud "Aw, shit!".

Maybe she needed rest, but then again, maybe she wouldn't get it. Maybe it was her mistake for deciding to come to such a chaotic home, but what else would she expect? It was Clint's. The insanity of every moment should have been expected. She knew it was a waste of time to try to sleep when something would happen every five minutes...

But then, footsteps approached. She was pulled from her thoughts again as Clint walked in, having been sent on a mission to find the dustpan which was missing from downstairs.

"You know, there are sheets on the bed for a reason," he retorts. Wanda doesn't respond, half wishing he would leave, half wishing he wouldn't. People had seemed to make a pattern out of that. The world had seemed to want to abandon her. Maybe it was what she deserved...

She flinched when Clint touched her arm, making her intrusive thoughts fizzle away. She sat up and he pulled the sheets out from under her, then placing them over her.

"If you're going to take a nap, at least do it properly," he says. "I'll wake you up for supper. Laura's making fish and rice."

He starts to leave and closes the door. Wanda gets under the sheets and lays down. She then, for some reason unbeknownst to her, begins to cry. It wouldn't be until after she woke up that she would realize why she was crying.

For the first time, she had felt like someone new cared about her. To him, it was just a little gesture to make her more comfortable.

To Wanda? It was a little gesture that showed she was loved here. When the most important thing in her life was gone, the gesture was enough to make her weep.


	2. A Special Kind Of Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda attempts to adjust to life in this new home before troubling information is delivered to her.
> 
> {Congrats for making it to chapter two. This is my first time publishing on AO3, so I'm sorry if I'm doing many things wrong (like this chapter summary). You will also notice the date this was posted (the same day as the last chapter) but this was written in February or March. Kudos for reading, sorry for this probably extremely cringey and un-AO3-ish "summary"}

Wanda awoke to a giggling little girl jumping on her bed, shouting "Wake up!". She slowly opened her eyes and looks at her.

"Alright, I'm awake," she feels a smile come to her face as the child as she gets off of the bed and runs off. Wanda slowly sits up and gets out of bed, brushing off her dress. She walks to the kitchen, a little disoriented and very sleepy. Though she wasn't exactly hungry, she knew that Clint wouldn't be happy with her if she stayed cooped up in her room.

As she walks in, she sees everyone setting the table, caring for the kids or putting food on a plate. It truly was a sight to see all of them just pitching in. A billionaire putting glasses on a table while a little girl folds napkins into hearts, a world-famous assassin holding a baby and showing him what they would be eating, an archer placing silverware next to the plates, an American mascot putting some rice in a large series of bowls...

She slowly walks in and walks to Clint, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Hm? Yeah. There's a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge. You can put it on the table," Clint says. Wanda nods and walks to the fridge. Tony bumps into her as she gets the lemonade out.

"Hey. You crawled out of your cave," he smiles softly. "I'm glad."

Wanda nods and walks quickly to the table, not exactly wanting to be next to him. Tony looks over and sighs softly. He wanted to get to know her, if he was being honest. She was like him: she was an orphan, she obviously had PTSD, she had lost the last bit of her family... he wanted her to be better. Better mentally, better physically, better emotionally...

Wanda noticed how almost mournful Tony looked as he stared at her, lost in his own thoughts. She doesn't say anything and sets the pitcher on the table, then stepping back to get out of the way. She tucks some hair behind her ear, wrapping an arm around herself. Soon, the chaotic shuffling and moving ended. Natasha put Nathaniel in his high chair, the kids sat down, and everyone except for Steve took their seats. Steve brings the food in, placing a bowl before each person.

The silence was oddly comfy, not tense, not uncomfortable. Wanda looked around without making a sound, not wanting to break the beautiful tranquility. Steve soon sits down again once all the food has been served out, and Laura says, "Are we doing the blessing?"

After supper, the sun had already set. Laura had already sent the kids to bed, but the adults chatted over wine while Clint and Tony cleaned the dishes. Wanda didn't drink, but she did like listening to everyone chatting. She was, however, getting quite exhausted. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep quite yet, though, so she was just wearing herself out. She would rarely add any input, since she was scarcely able to focus on the conversation. Everything else was gripping at her attention, and her mind kept drifting. She didn't even notice Clint's concerned look as she looked at every individual magnet on the fridge. He couldn't blame her for not noticing, since he didn't notice Tony approaching the girl until her concentration was broken by him.

"Hey. You look tired, you should go ahead and get to bed, okay?" Tony says. Wanda looks at him with almost a confused look, not knowing why he had to be the one to tell her. Tony sighs reservedly and looks at Clint for help.

"I think we should all go to bed. We'll go to town in the morning, they have a market on Fridays," Clint says. The others nod. They knew it was just an excuse to get Wanda to get some rest, and she sighs and nods too. Clint wraps an arm around her and escorts her to her room. She stays silent, though feeling on the verge of tears again. She didn't know why, but she just felt like crying. After Clint brings her to her room, she gets in bed and nods towards the door, telling him to leave without saying a word, but then he speaks. "You know, we're here for you. We know what it's like to lose someone you love."

Wanda says nothing. She just lays down in bed.

"We mean it. You can talk to any of us about anything you need," he says. "You don't have to do anything alone anymore."

"Stop that," she replies quietly. "I don't need your sympathy."

"Shutting yourself off is only going to make this whole process harder," he says. "You're going to-"

"I said go away..." her voice was much more weak. It because clear how much she needed to talk.

"I'm not going away. We care about you, Wanda," he was going to continue talking, but he felt something push him out of the room, the door then closing and locking. Clint groans and walks off, knowing how useless trying to help would be.

Wanda gets up and sighs. She undressed and quietly put on a tank top and pajama pants, then crawling back into bed and trying to sleep again. Her muscles were oddly weak, she felt pretty fatigued all of a sudden. She pulls the sheets up, trying to fall asleep again.

 

Around 2 am, Wanda gave up. She hadn't been able to sleep, and nothing seemed to help. Instead, she snuck out of her room silently. She went the kitchen and grabbed a lighter, as well as a candle. She then sneaks back out of the kitchen, glancing at the blonde behemoth, Steve, sleeping peacefully on the couch, since Tony had insisted that he slept alone that night. She bites her lip, feeling a twinge of jealousy or some other ugly emotion, since she kind of wanted to be able to sleep like that. She then returns to her room quietly.

Within a few moments, a small light was lit, and Wanda placed the lighter on her nightside table. She closed her eyes and mumbled a few quiet things before opening her eyes. Usually, she could feel something cold. She looks around a little.

"Hello?" Wanda asks quietly. She had found herself feeling a presence the first time she had done this... it had worked the day after her brother died, and the next day, and the next...

Today? She didn't feel anything.

"I... I don't think you're here..." Wanda mutters. "Can I still talk to you?"

She feels a weird feeling rush through her, like something was being pulled out of her. She had never felt anything remotely like it before, but it was very faint. She began thinking it was all in her head.

"Where are you?" She was quite afraid at this point. She started feeling quite nauseous. "Did you leave me?"

She feels another wave of nausea rush over her. Her head started feeling light, so she says, "Is anyone here?" She felt truly terrified. Nobody came forward, the candlelight didn't flicker to communicate with her. "Please? Is anyone here? Pietro?" She still had a shred of hope in her heart, that little piece of her telling her that maybe he was still there. She then just looks down, closing her eyes. She starts crying again, feeling another sense of dread filling her.

"Are you really gone? For good, this time?" She asks. "I mean... I guess that's good... it means you're happier, right? You're in heaven? Mama and Papa always liked to think that... I know you didn't. You said you never believed anything we learned in temple... you always said that you liked the idea of heaven, though..."

That shred of hope was taking over. She knew she was just speaking into the air, but it made her feel a little bit better to let out the words that came to her head.

"I miss you, you know. I know you can probably see that or feel that, wherever you are..." she starts feeling lightheaded again. "I don't think you're the one making me feel this way... sick... tired... unable to sleep..."

She sighs.

"You know, I think I've been talking to you for a while. Do spirits sleep? Maybe that's why I don't feel you... either way, I wish I could sleep... I'll try again in a few hours, maybe. You used to badger me when I stayed up late..." she smiles. "Goodnight, Pietro."

She just smiles softly and cups her hand around the candle again, blowing gently. The flame flickers at first, but doesn't leave. She blows one more time, causing the flame to go out and smoke to rise up from the wick. She takes a deep breath to breathe the little stream of smoke, since it gave her a weirdly comforting feeling. She then places the candle next to her bed. She gets under the covers yet again, feeling a little better. An airy feeling in her head made her calm down. She felt like she finally might be able to fall asleep.

Just as she lays down again, she hears footsteps in the hall. Then, someone knocks on the door. She slowly sits up and flicks her hand, unlocking and opening the door, then sitting up.

"Wanda?" Clint slowly walks in. He was holding his phone.

"Clint...?" She asks, a little worried now.

"I have some bad news... would you want to hear this now or later?" Clint asks. He then says. "Was there smoke in here? I smell a bit of-"

"I lit a candle," she cuts him off. "What's the bad news?"

Clint sighs, "Well... your brother, his body went missing. I wanted to give it a little bit of time, but I figured that you would want to know as soon as I did..."

Wanda freezes. For a moment, she went completely numb. She slowly lays down again, saying, "Thank you for telling me..."

"Are you going to be okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little sick..." she felt her face get hot with grief rushing to her again. She just felt horribly ill, but not in the right way. Not in the normal way. Clint sits on the bed, and she shakes her head. "I'm going back to bed. You can leave now."

Clint rubs her arm, "What do you want for breakfast in the morning? I'll make it for you."

"I don't know... can I please go to sleep?" She asks.

"Yeah, I guess," he stands up. "Do you want some melatonin?"

"Mhm..." she nods slowly.

"I'll be right back."

Clint leaves, and Wanda couldn't help herself anymore. She just curls up and cries. First, she lost her brother. Now, she couldn't even mourn by his body. Pietro had told her that when he dies, he wants his body to be used as fertilizer for a tree, so he could help on a new life. She couldn't bear to make his request come true... but now, it was too late. When Clint came back in, she wiped her tears and sat up again.

"It's okay to cry, Wanda," Clint says upon seeing her tears. "It's not a bad thing."

"I wasn't crying," she replies, trying to sound cool and calm. He hands her a glass of water and two pills, not believing a word she said. She wasn't a great liar when she knew she wasn't supposed to lie.

"Want pancakes? French toast? Something from Sokovia?"

"The last thing I want is something from Sokovia. I think I'm going to sleep in tomorrow, so I'll likely miss breakfast," she was still fighting back falling apart as she takes the pills. He sees her expression change and sits next to her, hugging her softly. She leans into him.

"We're in this together, okay? You carry an unimaginable weight on your shoulders, but all of us here, we all want to help you. We want to make that weight easier," he says. "I think you think you're alone. You're not."

Wanda nods slowly and leans into Clint.

"Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?" He asks. "It helped Lila when her grandfather died..."

"No. I just want to sleep..." she says.

"Do you want me to send someone to wake you up at any certain time?"

She shakes her head again. Clint sighs and kisses her head.

"Remember. We're here for you. I'll go out in the morning and get you some orange cream sodas, since you liked the one you got earlier. If you want, we can go for another drive," he says. She smiles softly.

"Thank you, Clint. For everything."

He kisses her head again and stands up, "Goodnight, Wanda. Sleep well."

Wanda nods, "Goodnight..."

Clint leaves and Wanda lays down yet again. She felt a pressure pushing on her body, like she was literally carrying something heavy, but oddly, more like something was pulling her down. She closed her eyes and hoped the melanin would allow her to sleep. She hated not being able to sleep. Pietro used to only sleep once every few days when they were being experimented on, and whenever Wanda got worried, she would make him sleep. Almost every day when she wasn't worried, he would hold her until she felt comfortable enough to sleep. Now, she would never get to be held by him again. She can't even hold his body's hand. That began to sink in.

Maybe that's why Pietro wasn't with her when she tried to talk to him. Maybe he was bound to his body... maybe he would never move on now. She had no more tears to cry, so she just trembled until the melanin finally did its job and calmed her down enough for her to drift off into a restless sleep. 

 

Around 4 am, she was awakened again, but this time, it was by her body. She was sweating, and had intense nausea. She practically fell out of bed to get out of it, feeling the nausea get stronger as she sat on the ground, on her knees. She rushed to the bathroom, feeling her body prepare to get sick, and retched violently, then she just sat there, panting and sweating and feeling as ill as ever. She felt suddenly very faint, and didn't know why until she wiped her mouth with her arm, seeing a thick, red liquid. The same was left in the toilet, since she had actually vomited blood.

Her eyes widen as she rises and stares in the mirror, seeing her pale expression and the bloodstain from her mouth to her cheek with pure horror in her expression. She suddenly shouts, "Clint! Clint, something's wrong!"


	3. Lift Your Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro wakes up and meets Stella, the girl assigned to watch after him. She takes him out for a good night.

"When will he wake up?" Her squeaky, semi-annoying voice asks. "Didn't it work?"

"Stella, it worked. Now shut up. When he wakes up, the last thing he'll want to hear is your damn voice. Plus, he'll be a little loopy, so your voice is gonna freak him out," one of the six doctors or surgeons or whatever snaps. She rolls her eyes. She had worked her ass off to get the damn speedster's body. This is how they reward her? "He'll be awake soon. Stella, accommodate him as he requests and make sure he understands what I explained to you. If you need us, you know where to find us."

She stalks around the body as the doctor leaves. He was pretty attractive, but the pallor of his skin made him look disgusting the first time she saw him, but since blood transfusions and a lot of other medical or magical mumbo-jumbo that Stella didn't understand, his skin had gained some color and warmth. Everything was much better after some sorcerer or something bound him to his sister. Plus, he had a pulse after the miracle transfusion. Who knew it only took two pints of blood, a sorcerer and six doctors to bring someone back?

She continued studying his features for quite a couple minutes until he shot up at an impossible speed. The white-haired boy looks around.

"Де я? Хто ти? Що відбувається?" He asks, oddly calm but with a trembling voice. He looks at Stella and says in a louder, more desperate tone: "Де я?!"

_Where am I? Who are you? What is going on?_

"Pietro Maximoff," Stella says with a soft grin. "It worked."

"Who are you?" Pietro asks, speaking English after, to Stella, far too long. His voice sounded more afraid in English, and his hands were trembling a little bit.

"My name is Stella and I am at your service," she bows, extending a hand to the man sitting on the metal table.

"And why am I here? Where is here?" He asks, not taking her hand and slowly getting off of the table himself.

"Well, we can discuss your role here soon. Welcome home, Mr. Maximoff."

Pietro visibly cringed.

"Don't call me Mr... it makes me sound like some kind of... I don't know... I just don't like it..."

"Well, you're a bit of a big deal around here," Stella grins. Pietro looks at her, confused.

"You still haven't said where we are. Why did you say 'welcome home'? Are we in Sokovia?" He asks. As soon as he uttered his native country's title, memories flooded onto him in shards. A young boy, a floating city, bullets piercing his skin one at a time. He only could think to himself for a split second before the memory of her scream came to his ears, and the words practically forced themselves through his lips. "Where is my sister?"

He felt guilty for not thinking of her before. Does she know he's okay? Thoughts of her occupied his mind. What if she had been hurt too? Or worse?

"She's at a farm," Stella replies simply. "Avengers bonding time or something."

"Are you with them?" Pietro asks. "The Avengers?"

"Me? Hell no. They ruined my life. I'm not with them. I don't deal with those people," she says. Pietro could hear from her tone of voice that she was close to a rant. "The Avengers can suck a dick. Every last o-"

"My sister's part of the Avengers, so watch it."

"No, she's not. She's a hostage to the Avengers," Stella argues. Pietro's angry expression dissolves.

"What are you talking about?" He looked worried.

"Sorry, bud. She's a happy hostage, but I bet you everything that she's not allowed to go anywhere alone," she says. She sees his expression go to pure worry and she thinks for a minute. "You know what? Let's get drinks. There's a bar near here. It'll lift your spirits, bud." She paused. "Haha... spirits... like the type of booze..."

Pietro does smile softly at the request, but not because he planned to have much fun. He wanted to get Stella drunk and get answers from her, "Alright. We'll get drinks. They're on you, though."

Stella just shakes her head, "We'll see."

She extends a hand to Pietro and he takes it, only then noticing his attire when he saw the sleeve of his shirt. It was quite simple, really, just some plain black pants, a pale blue t-shirt and a black jacket over it. It did, however, prompt him to ask, "Who dressed me...?"

"Sure as hell wasn't SHIELD," Stella says under her breath. This draws a confused and slightly protesting look from Pietro before she says. "What?"

"Did you...?"

Stella just groans, "I only peeked. I wasn't interested, just a little curious. Don't make a big deal about it. Now c'mon. I thought you were supposed to be fast. They'll be closed by the time we even reach the bar at this pace."

Before she even knew what happened, he had lifted her into his arms and they were traveling at the speed of sound. He stopped abruptly and set her down, causing Stella to have to take a moment to find her balance.

"Jesus Christ..." she mutters.

"Is this the bar?" He looked kind of excited.

"Yeah... why are you grinning like that?" Stella asks the speedster. "You've been to a bar before, right?"

"Wanda didn't let me drink. It scared her when I had a root beer when we were younger," he replies. This was true, but not why he was excited. "I didn't let her drink either... it was mutual, but I did go through a short series of benders when I was fifteen."

"Alrighty then," Stella says. She leads him inside and sits at the bar with him. "Get whatever you want."

"Shots?"

"You really are a teenager in an adult's body, aren't you?"

"Eh."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Stella chuckles softly, "You know what? You seemed excited about shots. Let's do shots!"

Pietro chuckles softly, "Alright."

Stella smiles and nods at the bartender, "Let's start with two shots of moonshine each."

"Sure. Can I see your ID?" He asks. Stella just stares at him, hoping he would just go ahead and drop the question. HYDRA agents weren't allowed to have IDs, so neither she nor Pietro have them. It was so they couldn't be traced, but it led to moments such as this.

Stella groans and holds up a hand, electricity crackling between her fingers, "No. You can't. But you can still make us drinks."

The man freezes and Pietro stares, a little surprised. The man then begins pouring the drinks. Pietro says, "You're enhanced?"

"Yep. I was a day away from meeting you and your sister before the attack on our base. Then you and her went missing," she smiles softly. She didn't usually tell the truth about much, but something about Pietro made her trust him. She thought for a moment that they could get along.

"Really?" He chuckles in slight surprise. She nods before their drinks are handed to them by a terrified bartender. Stella slides one of the small glasses to Pietro.

"You ever done this before?"

"Have you?"

Stella takes the shot in response, cocking an eyebrow competitively. Pietro looked a little surprised, but then put the shot between his fingers. He took a deep breath before taking the shot quickly, then grimaced.

"You haven't," Stella chuckles softly. "Wow. I didn't expect that."

Pietro gives her a look, "And what did you expect?"

"Aren't you supposed to be Pietro Maximoff, party animal, womanizer, et cetera?" Stella asks. She was genuinely surprised.

"Don't believe what people say. The only woman I've ever cared about is, as you said, a hostage to the Avengers. Parties are just excuses to meet women, and I'm not interested," he says. She watches him take the next drink, looking a little saddened to his time. Hostage. The word made him angry. He should go to her, now, drop the drinks and go.

"Hey bud, you know what? We're getting your sister back," she says. "But for tonight, you just returned from the underworld. You're gonna have a little fun, alright? We'll go to Wanda in the morning. How's that sound?"

Pietro smiles softly at Stella, "That sounds pretty good."

They sat in silence for a moment before they realized the bartender on the phone, talking quietly. Stella groans, standing, "C'mon, bud. We're leaving. He's calling the cops."

Pietro stands up and nods, starting to leave. Stella follows and puts her hand on his arm, holding it gently so they wouldn't get separated. He looks at her for a moment, a little surprised. He then smiles and lets her hold onto his arm as he leads her out.

"Another bar or a club?" Stella asks.

"I... I don't go to clubs," he says.

"Why? Too many girls in miniskirts?" Stella asks. "Is it too much for poor, poor pitiful Pietro?"

"It... It's not my scene."

"Are you seriously trying to convince me that you don't even like clubbing?"

"I've never been clubbing," he chuckles. Stella just groans. "I'll try it. Just this once, since I'm already a bit off. What damage could it do?"

"Exactly," she says. "Now you've got your head screwed on right."

Pietro looked at her like she was insane, but the way she said it was oddly fond. He could really tell that they would make something pretty special, "Since when was that an expression?"

"Since always," she says, leading him to a club nearby. "Don't dwell on it, bud. We got drinks to drink and dances to dance."

He just smiles, opening the door for her. She walks in and he follows close behind. There wasn't even a bouncer (you'll have to thank poor regulations for that...), so they were able to enter without a problem. Stella pulled him straight to the bar, and he didn't resist. As soon as she looks away, though, Pietro speeds away, inspecting the space carefully. He then returns before Stella even knew he was gone. She hands him a glass full almost to the brim with a clear liquid and ice.

"It's just vodka, but it's good enough. Drink up," she says. Pietro was understandably surprised after a moment, since she managed to down the whole glass as if it was water.

"Jesus, how often—"

"Bud, you don't want to know," she says, starting to walk away towards a mass of people. Pietro just stares after. She was completely perplexing, but he had a sudden inclination to learn every last detail about the spunky blonde.

 

By the time they were leaving, Stella could hardly walk due to how exhausted she was. For this reason, Pietro carried her. She had her arms around his neck, and he didn't run so they could chat. Plus, he expected the fatigue from hours of dancing to rush onto him like a wave.

So far, over the course of the night, Pietro had figured a couple things out, one being: Stella was the most powerful, most confident, most independent person he had ever met. No matter what he or anyone else said to her, her happiness and confidence didn't waver. While they were dancing, some American man catcalled her. He had said something along the lines of "you have nice tits", with odd aggression in his voice.

Pietro had heard this and had become livid. He was ready to fight this man, since Stella was his friend. So, when she didn't change a thing about how she moved, when she called back a swift "I know!", it made him stop completely. She didn't waver. She barely even reacted, only getting more confident. He had never seen anyone react that way.

"That was fun, mm?" She asks close to Pietro's ear and bringing him back to reality. He just smiles softly.

"That was fun..." he agrees quietly. The alcohol had come and gone from his system, leaving him surprisingly sober. He wasn't even tired. "Should we go back to the facility?"

"Mm..." she hums softly. "And let's go to a hotel. I wanna try something..."

Pietro nods and keeps walking until he reaches a nearby hotel. It was one of those hotels that seemed to be in every city, no matter if it was on the map or not. He walks in and Stella pulls out a handful of crumpled bills, throwing them on the desk. She was still kinda drunk, since she had continued drinking for the duration of the night. He had made sure she put good distance and a glass of water between each drink, though, since he didn't want her to drink too much.

Pietro takes something that looked like a credit card from the man at the front desk, but with the hotel's logo on it instead of... any information. The number on the card said 412, so Pietro walks with Stella to the elevator. He lets her down, standing her up.

"You know, you never told me how you and those other men brought me back," he says, keeping an arm around her so she wouldn't fall. Now that she was drunk, he was sure that she would be an open book.

"To be fair, I don't know either. I did what they told me to and you sprung up after a couple hours," she says, leaning into him. Pietro nods, gently rubbing her arm. "I honestly didn't expect you to wake up... the others always said you would, though..."

Pietro remains silent, letting her talk.

"Some connection to your sister, I think..." she says. "That's why you're back..."

"Wanda?" He asks. Stella nods. The elevator doors open and he brings her inside, pressing for the fourth floor.

"Mhm... Wanda..." she says. Pietro purses his lips.

"Oh..." he then bites his lip. "And what you said earlier, about wanting to try something, what was that?"

"You'll see."

Pietro sighs and holds her against him. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the elevator doors open. He slowly rests his head her shoulder, just thinking.

Wanda didn't know. He had come back to life and instead of telling his sister, he went on a goddamn bender. He went clubbing. Good brothers don't do that. A good brother would've gone to her first thing.

"What's on your mind, bud?" Stella asks, letting him stay where he is.

"Nothing," he lies. The elevator dings and the doors open. Stella starts walking out, with Pietro following. Her soreness failed to hinder her, as everything else that night had done. She leads him to the hotel room, then takes the card from between his fingers and inserts it into some contraption on the door. A green light comes on and Stella opens the door. Pietro was too distracted by the curious little machine that he was only pulled out of his thoughts by Stella grabbing his sleeve, pulling him into the room.

Stella goes to the bed and sits on it, then says, "Hey Piet?"

"Yeah?" He asks. Nobody really called him Piet, so the nickname was a little new to him.

"Wanna make out?"

Pietro just stared at her for a moment, "Uh... what?"

"You know what that means," she says. "You know you do."

"I just... didn't expect that from you," he says.

"Who? Me? The partially drunk girl who you've spent the night dancing with?" She says.

"You are not partially drunk. I'm pretty sure you're wasted."

"You're missing the point."

"Just... not tonight," he goes into the bathroom and finds some complimentary makeup wipes, then returns to Stella. She was wearing quite a bit of smudged makeup, since she had dolled up with free testers at a makeup store halfway through the night. She stands up when she sees him.

Stella crosses her arms sternly as he gently pushes her to sit on the bed again. "What? Are you... you know?"

"Am I what?" He asks, confused as he wipes off her makeup for her.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says sternly.

"Stella, you should go to bed, okay?" He says. He finishes removing her makeup, then walks to the bed she was sitting on, since there were two in the room. He pulls down the covers and looks at her. "You've had a long night."

"Just answer my question," she says sternly.

"You have to do something for me first, okay?" He says. "Lay down under the covers and close your eyes, then count to 100. After you do that for me, I'll answer your question... whatever it's supposed to mean."

Stella huffs and gets in the bed, closing her eyes and starting to count quietly. Pietro pulls the covers over her and hears her trail off right after managing to mutter thirty-two. He then goes to the other bed and sits, just watching her for a moment. She was kinda adorable when she didn't have a scary amount of pride in her expression.

Pietro oddly didn't feel tired at all. He wasn't sore either. He had an odd amount of energy, though he wasn't so energetic that he knew sleep would require work. Sleep used to be a problem when he was with HYDRA. He never could sleep, and sometimes Wanda would have to manipulate his mind, though he only resorted to that after a week or so without sleep.

There he was. Back to Wanda.

He decides to sleep. Stella said they would see Wanda in the morning, and he trusted her. Therefore, he slowly lays down under the covers and closes his eyes, falling asleep only moments after.


	4. Want To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda arrives home from the hospital with only more questions and no answers. Pietro searches for answers within Stella but finds few.

Wanda was in the car again. It was one in the afternoon and she was leaning against the car door in the backseat, trembling softly. After what happened the night before, they had gone to the hospital immediately. Clint had called in Doctor Helen Cho, and she was baffled. She had actually taken a jet from New York to the hospital where Wanda was. Every single test they did came back negative. Something was incredibly wrong, but nobody had an explanation. Everything in her body was normal except for the lack of blood, since she was oddly missing exactly two pints.

She places an arm over her head, feeling a pounding headache begin along with incredible fatigue. She felt nauseous, but a different type of nauseous. She felt like she was dying, but not physically. Not to mention how sore she was... it was almost as if she had been exercising all night instead of getting tested for everything imaginable.

"Clint..." she murmurs. Clint looks over.

"Do you want me to pull over? Are you alright?" He was absolutely terrified. Helen was in the front seat, since she wanted to stay with Wanda to observe her.

"No... I just..." she pauses. "I'm scared..."

The words hit Clint like a truck. He had never heard her admit that before, and it kind of hurt. He reaches back to give her his hand.

"It'll be okay, okay?" He says. "You'll make it out of this. It'll get better."

She nods slowly, her lip quivering a little.

"What do you feel now?" Cho asks.

"I don't know..." she pauses for a moment. "I... I think I feel hungover? I've never been hungover before... but... this is what it's described as..."

Clint sighs, "You can stay in your room, okay? I'll close the blinds..."

Wanda nods. The car slowly parks as they reach the farm. Helen gets out first and Clint second. He opens the backseat and looks at Wanda.

"Sit up for a minute, okay? I'm gonna carry you to the house," Clint says before Steve Rogers runs out.

"Hey. I'll take her to her room," Steve says. "You go ahead and get her whatever she needs."

Clint sighs and looks at Wanda, "Which would you prefer?"

Wanda just gets out herself, despite the pain shooting through her muscles, "I'm sick, not injured. My legs still work, neither of you have to carry me."

She walks into the house, sighing with exasperated annoyance. They were treating her like she was incapable. She didn't like that. She winces from the light around her, since they just had to have all of the lights on, apparently. She goes to her room, going to the bed and sitting down. She then slowly lays down, the familiar feeling of dread rushing over her as she returns to the position she was in when this whole thing started.

Clint comes in and closes the blinds. Cho comes in after him, "Tell me again what's wrong right now. We can treat the symptoms for a bit until we can figure out the disease."

Disease. The word made her feel more sick, somehow. She was really sick. What if she died from whatever the hell was going on with her? At least she would get to be with her brother again, assuming they both go to the same place. He died a hero. Her? She was no hero. She didn't sacrifice herself for anyone. Pietro would be in Valhalla, right? Thor was real, wouldn't that afterlife be real too? Where would she go?

"I don't know... I have a headache... light and sound make it worse... I'm still nauseous, and... I'm just really sore, too," she says. Helen nods and walks off. Wanda looks at Clint, who was staring at her with pity in his eyes.

"I'll get you some water. Will that help?" He asks.

"I don't know," she answers truthfully. "I just think I should sleep..."

"Dr. Cho is getting you some things to make you feel better," he walks to her and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing her arm softly. "You can sleep after you take whatever she brings back."

Wanda just shifts a little, "You might want to get back... what if whatever I have is contagious?"

"The doctor said it's likely not," Clint says. Wanda shifts again before Doctor Cho comes back in, holding a mixture of pills and a drink.

"Aspirin for the soreness and headache, ginger ale for the nausea, and a couple vitamins just to be safe," she looks at Clint. "You also need a lot more in your medicine cabinet. You have almost nothing."

Clint nods. That made Wanda nervous. Usually, he would quip back with something defensive, but... he didn't. He was worried. Worried about her, no less. She slowly takes the aspirin and vitamins, then looking at Clint, whose dour expression remained.

She slowly lays down, "I'll feel better if I rest, right?"

"Yeah..." he walks over to her and kisses her forehead gently. "If you need anything at all, call on me. I'll bring you water or-"

"I got it," she says. "Thank you."

He nods slowly and starts leaving. Once he's gone, Helen looks at Wanda, "If more symptoms develop, no matter how minor they seem, come to me or call me."

Helen then just flashes a pitying smile at Wanda before leaving her alone in the dark. Wanda sighs and looks at the candle next to her bed, not bothering to light it.

"Do you know what's going on?" She asks quietly. "Because... I'm scared. I mean, the worst case scenario isn't death at this point, but... I don't like hurting. I probably deserve it after what happened to you... I could've stopped you. I could've saved you. I guess that wouldn't be too great either, since then Clint would've taken those..." the lump in her throat returns, choking her. "You're a hero. You were always my hero. Even when I teased you, I did nothing but respect you. You did nothing but protect me... I should have thanked you for that a long time ago. It's too late now, but... I want you to know it, okay? It still hurts a little, that you weren't here. I still have that old sweatshirt... the one I got you from Britain, the one I gave you on our birthday last year, with the little stripes on the side. It kinda hurts to see, but... it reminds me of you. I still can't stop thinking about-"

The door opens and Clint steps in, "Wanda? Who are you talking to?"

"I'm just... talking to myself," she lies, awkwardly sitting up.

"You can talk to me," he says. "I don't want things to get worse. Emotional pain is still pain."

"That's the last thing I want to hear right now, believe me..." she sighs. "Right now, I just want to be alone."

"You keep saying that."

"Yeah, I mean it."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Now, can I be alone please?"

Clint sighs again, "You can't stay in this stage of denial forever. Let us in and everything will be easier."

"I'm not in denial, Clint. And I don't need anyone to talk to."

 

"Four seconds?!" Pietro exclaims, panting a little.

"That's only 25 a second," Stella says, holding the monitor. "Cool down and stretch. That's the last one we have to do today."

"We?" Pietro nods and sits down on the bench. He was running laps to test his speed. He would run one hundred laps, stepping on a pedal in the middle of every lap so a machine could time him. He had slowed down by about half a second on his fourth time around, and he was mad about it. They were supposed to go see Wanda, but higher-ups had requested that they check his speed and endurance.

"You're still fast, okay?" Stella smiles friendlily at Pietro.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, drinking some water. He watches her write some things down on a piece of paper and Pietro watches, a new thought arising. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?" She asks, a little confused.

"You're normal, right? You don't have super speed or... whatever my sister has, so... why are you here? To take notes? I know you have those sparks, but wouldn't that be smoke and mirrors? What could they do?" He asks. At that, Stella rolls her eyes.

"Listen. I was an experiment after you. I have my powers too," she says. "They're pretty weird, weirder than your sister's."

"Prove it," he leans against the wall behind the bench, reclining a little in the seat to watch. Stella rolls her eyes.

"Fine. But no questions about my powers because I have no idea how to answer them, okay?"

"No questions."

Stella nods. She briefly looks around before her eyes settle on the metal bench Pietro was resting on. Her skin quickly fades into a new color, silver and metallic, and she freezes up, not moving. Pietro watched, a little in awe. He stands up and walks around her, seeing that every inch of her body was covered in or transformed into the metal. After a few seconds, she stops and takes a deep breath, like she wasn't breathing during that time.

"Wow... that's amazing," he marvels.

"Yeah... I can copy properties of objects, animals and, sometimes, people. I also just gained the sparks thing you saw last night accidentally. You were right about that, that's just for show," she nervously rubs the back of her neck. "I'm glad you like it."

"You said you were an experiment? Why didn't I meet you before?" He still had an awed expression on his face as he gazed at her in wonder.

"I said no questions!"

"You said no questions about your powers."

Stella rolls her eyes.

"Fine. You've never met me before because I was still in the works when you were deployed to Sokovia," she says. Pietro nods and the girl walks over, sitting next to him on the bench. "I wish I had met you before, though. You can be really fun when you're sober, and you're twice that fun drunk. Plus, you took care of me the morning after."

"You mean this morning?" He rolls his eyes, though he started thinking about that night. He thought of how Stella had acted. He hadn't really thought about it, but it was worth thinking about. Stella was beautiful, and she was confident, but he hadn't even thought for a moment about her romantically. He never thought about "making out" with her. Should he have? Maybe he just saw too much of his sister in her to see her like that. Was it something else? Stella had asked if he was 'y'know'... but what does that mean? She didn't say it with stigma, but he had an odd feeling that she should have. What the hell was she talking about? Was it a bad thing?

As he digested these thoughts, his expression looked a little more pensive. Stella immediately took notice, "Hey, Piet?"

Pietro looks at her again. Of course she had to call him that. His mind was a tangled mess and he couldn't think of anything to respond with.

"Are you okay? What's on your mind?" Stella gently puts her hand in his.

"What do you remember from last night?" Pietro asks. "Do you remember what happened in the hotel room?"

"What? Wait, did we-"

"No, we didn't, but do you remember anything from then?"

"Um... no. All I remember is dancing some and getting crepes and coffee in the morning," she says. Pietro takes a deep breath. "Why?"

"You just... you said some things," he says. "I'm just thinking about what you said."

"What did I say?"

Pietro doesn't answer, knowing that he would either say the truth or a lie. He didn't know which was worse.

"You know what? Let's have a drink and a cigarette. We can talk about this after that," she says.

"I don't smoke anymore."

That was true. When he was on his bender phase when he was fifteen, he also started bumming cigarettes from his friends, who stole theirs from their parents.

"It'll calm you down," Stella says. Pietro gets mad and raises his voice.

"I said-"

"Then we won't smoke. Let's just get a drink to calm you down," she stands up but Pietro grabs her arm and makes her sit again, still angry and wanting answers. Stella just stares him, startled and a little bit frightened. His grip on her arm kind of hurt, since it was so tight. Pietro sees her scared expression and looks away, the guilt being enough to calm him down. He lets go of her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you. Just... I don't want a drink. I want to know what's going on."

"You're the only one who knows what's going on, Pietro," Stella says. "That's all I know. I was drunk. You were not. I don't know what I said, but if it's this important to you, then you should think about it some more, okay? I'm gonna go. If you change your mind, I have something to calm you down. I'll see you."

Stella stands and walks off, leaving Pietro alone to think.


	5. No Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro learns of his new invulnerability and begins taking advantage of it.

After running a couple more laps to clear his head, Pietro's shoes had been destroyed, so he couldn't run anymore. He was still thinking about what Stella had said, though he still didn't have the faintest grasp on what it could mean. That's when he took a punch, since Stella had landed a hit on the side of his head, right on his brow bone.

"C'mon! Focus!" Stella says, stopping. She had a thin layer of sweat on her forehead and shoulders when she stops swinging. Pietro hadn't actually been hitting her, but he had been tapping in places where he would hit, since he was obviously going to get more hits in than she would. He was allowed to use his powers, though Stella was not.

"Sorry..." he murmurs, though he looks at the spot where he had been hit. "That... oddly didn't hurt."

"Well, I'm not quite as strong as you, for one," the blonde replies. "Seriously. Just focus. As soon as we're done with this, we can go see your sister, okay? So let's finish this quickly."

Pietro takes a deep breath and nods. Stella then reaches into her boot, pulling out a small switchblade. He furrows his eyebrows, "Wait, are we—"

"Taking it up a notch? Yeah," she says, flicking her wrist to extend the blade. "Just don't get stabbed, okay?"

Stella swings at him and Pietro quickly ducks, the blade going over his head. He taps a couple spots on her, since he, again, wasn't supposed to actually punch her. He goes back to normal speed and Stella tries to stab him again, this time, managing to knick him. The little knife cuts through his shirt and a bit of his skin, right on his arm, next to his shoulder. He goes back into speed to inspect his wound, but oddly, there wasn't any blood. He quickly grabs the knife out of Stella's hands and throws it in a different direction, then returning to normal. The cut was deep, but the lack of blood greatly worried him.

"Hey, you can't just-"

"What's going on here?" He points to the spot on his arm. "There isn't any blood."

"Well, you kinda did come back from the dead like yesterday," Stella says. Pietro snaps his head to look at her, giving her a baffled expression, mostly surprised at how calm and nonchalant she was. "Seriously. I'm sure it's just a side effect of you being alive again."

"Where is my blood, then?"

"Your blood? I don't know," she says. "Maybe the scratch isn't deep enough."

Pietro just stares at her, "Are you serious?"

"Listen, I'm not a doctor," she defends. "I'm only here to accommodate you, bud. My guess is it has something to do with the magicky stuff they did to you."

"Magicky stuff?"

"Yeah. Some sorcerer or something came in and said some stuff and burned some stuff and you're alive now," she says. "I don't know how it happened, so don't go off on me."

Pietro just sighs, "I'm done training. I think we should have that drink now..." he walks off, starting to take off his shirt so he could wear something without any rips in it.

"I'll be outside, I guess," she says.

As Pietro walks to what was practically a locker room, he starts thinking again. He would get to see Wanda soon, but what would that entail? Would she even want to see him after he left her like that? How was he supposed to explain all the weird side effects like the bloodless cut? Plus, he's been drinking... how would she react to that? Even worse, how would she react to knowing that he waited a full day before seeing her? How would she react to meeting Stella? Would she even meet Stella?

The thoughts made him kinda sick. This whole situation was so messy, and he wasn't doing anything to make it better. The night before had been fun, but it just made everything worse... he had made everything worse. What if Wanda hated him for everything he had done? What if she hated him for waiting, for lying, for... for everything? What if he lost his little sister?

Pietro just sighs and pulls a new shirt on. He leaves the locker room and sees Stella standing there, waiting and wearing a sundress.

"For someone whose power is literally super speed, you take a long time to change into the exact same shirt you just had on," she teases. She then takes notice of his dour expression and thinks for a minute. He needed to stop worrying, and maybe drinks and spliffs couldn't do that... "I'm limiting you to one drink and one cigarette as long as you're bummed like this, okay? Sad drinking doesn't do anyone any good."

Pietro watches as the girl extends a hand to him. He gently takes her hand, "Thank you."

"No problem, bud," she says. "And if you want, we can try to find someone for you to bring back to your room. I overheard the doctors say that your sex drive should kick up soon."

"Ugh... that just sounds weird coming from you," Pietro visibly cringed. He wasn't sure why, he just didn't want to hear her even mention sex, especially his sex drive. Stella raised an eyebrow, but takes his hand.

"C'mon. Let's go," she says, starting to lead him away. Pietro follows, keeping his hand in hers.

"So... what do you know about my being back?"

"Not much," she shrugs. "I know that you won't be seeing any negative effects of anything for a couple weeks. That's probably why you didn't bleed when you got cut. That's probably also why you weren't hungover this morning, and why you don't get sore."

"Why am I not getting any negative effects?" He asks.

"As I told you before, magicky stuff. If I'm being honest, I don't think you even have to eat or sleep."

Pietro thought about this for a moment. That could be good. He could drink, he could smoke, he could stay up all night... he didn't have any limitations. This could be good for him. He could cope however he wanted and nothing bad would happen. He started to grin, "How long will this last?"

"Again, a couple weeks," she says. "The docs projected it would last until at least the end of the month."

A month. This month could be fun. Plus, he would get to see his sister again. That would be nice. He imagined that she missed him... he imagined she would be happy to see him. He imagined she would cry with joy and have that perfect little smile he knew so well. She would hug him and tell him all about what he missed and he would listen and kiss her head and everything in the world would be right again. His little sister would finally have her big brother (twin brother, technically, but he was twelve minutes older. He counted it as being older, though Wanda used to point out that that doesn't mean he's more mature).

Stella saw that he was in deep thought and smiled, since he looked hopeful.

"C'mon, you're taking too long," she grabs his sleeve and starts leaving. Pietro follows, a hopeful grin still idly remaining on his lips.

 

Two hours in and Pietro had picked up blackjack. His money wasn't his, it was HYDRA's, so he didn't have anything to lose. He had Stella sitting on his lap and one of her cigarettes, which turned out to actually be some kind of weird spliff, between his lips as they get served another hand. He hated the smell of the smoke, he had since he was little, but he was just barely high enough to not care about it. He had already won $5,000 in seven rounds (he had lost the first two, but now he was on a winning streak) and he had no intention of stopping. Stella had her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder.

The dealer across the table from Pietro kept eyeing him, but not like he expected from his gambling opponent. He was kind of... checking him out. His eyes were unreadable, but they did travel around his body, not just his expression. It gave Pietro an odd feeling, but he kind of liked it. He then handed Pietro the deck of cards to cut, and Pietro does so, going in about the middle of the deck. The dealer watched his hands with a look of interest, though he runs a hand through his short, curly hair.

Stella stands up from his lap, since her glass was empty. She looks at him, "Want anything else, bud?"

The dealer's eyes looked at Pietro again as he puts a plastic piece in to separate some of the cards. Pietro heard her question, but didn't say anything. He glances at the dealer again, who was looking at him almost expectantly.

"Well? Stop the side glances and answer my question," she says. The almond-skinned dealer chuckles softly at her, though Pietro's face heated up, something it had never really done before.

"I would recommend just a gin and tonic. It's simple, but the kind they have here is good," the dealer says. Oddly, this was the first time Pietro had heard him speak. His voice was smooth and even (and surprisingly deep).

"Then I'll have a gin and tonic," Pietro says, putting on his smug expression again. The dealer looks down at the cards and Stella walks off.

Pietro takes another hit of the spliff before putting it out in a small ashtray. Most of it had gone to waste, but it tasted pretty cheap, so he didn't feel bad. Plus, it had done its job. Pietro was actually calm. His energy had been tamed and his nerves were soothed. He waited for the usual nausea to hit him, but it didn't. For the next month, he could do this every day without consequence, without even the usual nausea of a cheap jay. The thought brought another smile to his lips. When he looked up, he saw the dealer smiling too.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name," Pietro says.

"Declan," he says. The speedster couldn't help but notice how he looked when he smiled. He looked flirtatious. "But you can call me whatever you want."

Pietro felt his face heat up again, another odd feeling arising in his chest. He was oddly flattered, "Well, I'm Pietro."

Declan extends a hand, which Pietro shook. When Pietro pulled his hand away, Declan leans on the table to get more comfortable, "Are you from around here?"

He hadn't yet dealt the cards, and Pietro honestly didn't mind. It didn't seem like there would be any more card games.

"No. I'm from an area near Greece and-" he pauses. "I'm from Sokovia. You've probably heard about it in the news, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I've heard about it."

Sokovia was greatly unknown before the incident. He always had to explain the location, since half the non-Sokovians he had talked to had never heard of the country. It was surprisingly eye-opening, but now, he supposed it was on the map...

"Yeah. I just moved here from there," he says. "I'm hoping to meet up with my sister soon, and the woman who's taking a while to get me a drink has promised that I may see her today."

"Really? What's her name? I've talked to some Sokovians who came through, maybe I saw her," he says. Stella returns with a drink.

"What's whose name?" She asks, oblivious. "Me?"

"His sister," Declan replies. Pietro feels a sting in his chest. He heard a new tone in the man's voice. Pietro takes the drink from Stella, watching Declan, who now looked more interested in Stella now. It may have just been him overreacting, but he didn't like it at all.

"Actually, maybe we should just go back, yeah? We should get back on the road," Pietro says. He didn't like the way Declan was looking at Stella, and he wanted to leave. He didn't know if it was for selfish reasons or for Stella's sake that he felt so strongly, but he couldn't help how he felt. Now that the dealer wasn't paying attention to him, the fun of the afternoon seemed to melt away.

"Are you sure? We could have another night like last night, we can do the same thing," she says. That made Pietro sick for some odd reason. The question arises in his mind again, but what truly made him feel angry was one word: same.

He had been alive for one day, and he already felt trapped. Messing around with money and cards was fun, dancing was fun, the drinks, the spliffs... it all was fun, but the word "same" implied something that made him feel terrible.

"No."

Same. This wasn't the same. None of this was the same. He was starting a whole new life, a whole new chance to change the world, and so far, everything was the same, but worse. He still had the same anger issues, he still had the same obsessive and self-destructive tendencies, but he didn't have his sister to calm him. He still didn't have his sister. He couldn't make this his new "same", his new monotony.

He drinks some of his drink before placing it on the table, "We're going to her now. Lead the way."

Stella sighs and stands up, though flashing the dealer one last glance, "Thanks for the cash."

Declan nods politely at her, though eyeing her a little. Pietro picks up Stella and speeds to the base again, leaving behind a trail of wind that made the cards go everywhere. He caught a glance of them on his way out but otherwise didn't care.

He soon stops inside the base, starting to change clothes and throwing his old ones in his locker. Stella watches him with an odd look in her eye.

"What?"

"Are you flexing on me, bud?"

"Am I what?" Pietro asks, pulling on a black and grey henley shirt. "Go change. I want to give Wanda a good impression of you. I think you two would get along."

"From what I've seen, I don't think we will. I think she's a bit more... timid... than I am," she replies, though looking around the locker room. "You know, women aren't allowed in here."

"Really? Why?" He was using a mirror to style his hair a little. He was shaking a little. All of his emotions were flaring at once and he didn't know how to show them. He was living in the moment, though the moment was plagued by his jitteriness. It seemed all the good that the spliff had done had gone away.

"Because HYDRA doesn't like women," she says very simply. "Those misogynists didn't even give us a locker room. There are only about five women in the whole organization."

Pietro looks over, "No, that can't-" a look from Stella was enough to assure him. "Huh."

"Five that know we are HYDRA, at least. The others still think we're a division of SHIELD," she says. "And I honestly don't understand them."

"Aren't you one of this women?"

"Not really. I have my own reasons," she says. "As I said before, the Avengers ruined my life, but you don't get detail about that until you unlock my deep and depressing backstory. I joined to put them to justice. I vowed to myself that I would leave this place as soon as I was done with the experiments. Now, it seems I'll be leaving with you."

Pietro nods slowly, smiling softly. His nerves were calmed. The conversation was small and trivial; he didn't plan on returning to HYDRA anyway, especially now. What happened with Declan had been shoved aside in his mind to give more room to the anticipation of seeing his sister. He closes the locker door, "So, are we taking a car or am I running?"

"Are you kidding? We're taking a jet. Now c'mon, bud. We're three hours away and we still have to get dinner," she says, starting to leave the locker room. Pietro follows, smiling. "Want another cigarette?"

"Maybe later," he says. "Speaking of, I usually feel nauseous after having one of those, what type of-"

"Magicky stuff," she says, no sense of malice or snappiness in her voice, more general annoyance. That made Pietro suspicious.

"What's the tone for?"

"There isn't a tone," she replies, genuinely hoping he would drop the subject. She tried to act nonchalant, though the way he was speaking made her nervous. He actually wanted to know. How could she steer him off of this path?

"You sound annoyed," he thinks for a minute. Stella still hadn't told her what the mmagicky stuff' had done exactly. "Does it have something to do with the magic?"

Stella didn't respond.

"Well, Stella?"

She walks to the hanger, going to a jet, "I'll tell you on the way."

Pietro follows quickly, worried now, "Why? Is there something you don't want me to know?"

"No shit, genius," she says. This causes Pietro's eyes to roll.

"What is it?"

Stella pulls a lever on her way to the jet, then a wall starts opening up for the jet to fly from. She goes to a certain jet and presses a code into it.

"Stella, just answer me and I'll stop asking."

"There are drinks on the jet. Have a few and I'll tell you," she responds, acting as though she was exasperated. A panel on the jet comes out, supplying a small stair system for Pietro to walk up. He goes onto the jet and Stella follows, then the stair system retreats into the jet.

Pietro goes to the back, where there was a small fridge and some drinks. He grabs a small bottle and pulls out a glass for him to pour his drink into.

"You can't handle that," she says. He hears her mutter a soft, "lightweight..."

He puts it up, "You know what? I beat you repeatedly in training. Tell me what they did or I might have to beat it out of you."

"You're all bark and no bite, Pietro. If I've learned one thing from the past 36 hours, it's that," she says. She goes to the pilot's seat and presses a couple things, so the plane could be remotely piloted. They had a man who was going to pilot the ship without actually being on the ship.

"Then just tell me or I'll annoy the hell out of you."

"You're already doing that," she pulls out another pack of spliffs, pulling one out and placing it between her lips. Pietro speeds over and pulls it away.

"No distractions. Just talk. Tell me."

"Fine, fine. They did this weird thing on you where whenever you needed blood or needed some immune thing, it would be taken from your sister. The doctors took some of her blood and gave it to you, about two pints, I think. They also took some of whatever keeps her healthy, enzymes or whatever, and put it in you. The rest was via magic. That's why you didn't bleed, because she's the one who would be bleeding."

Pietro took a deep breath. To be honest, he had expected worse. He had expected much, much worse. He was back, and as much as he was sure that Wanda would have been proud to give a little in exchange for him, the idea of her being injured because of him made him sick. Later on, he would look back on this thought with disgust. Why should she be proud of giving blood for him? She was more important than he ever was. He must have still been tipsy.

"However, she doesn't know you're alive. I know it'll be hard, but you can't interact with her for a while. You can watch her, but she can't know you're alive until you get the thumbs up from HYDRA. If we want to save her from the Avengers, then we can't let the Avengers know about you," she says.

"What?" His tone was stern, though laced with confusion.

"They can't know about you. I'm going to sneak into their little group, okay? They don't know me. I'll push them away from her, break her bonds, then you can swoop in and convince her to leave. If you straight up take her, she might think something's up with you. She has to want to leave."

He paused, thinking to himself. It was manipulative, but then she would be safe and away from them, and she would willingly come to him... they could go home. They could leave this garbage country, go to Novi Grad again. He had become so used to English that it was almost automatic, so he knew it was time to return home. The thought of not talking to her killed him... he couldn't live with that, but he would have to.

"Stella, that sounds like it... it just might work," he says, looking at her with a smile. "Thank you."

Stella beams at him. He thought she looked pretty cute when she smiled like that; it wasn't overconfident, it was half-mocking joy. The smile then dies down to the smile she usually had, then to a confident smirk.

"Of course it's a great idea, it's mine."

And she's back to normal.


	6. Feeling Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda starts feeling better. It seems to be a one-time thing before a new problem comes up. She has mystery bruises... is she hurting herself?

Helen pricks Wanda's finger, taking a blood sample for what felt like the umpteenth time. Wanda was gently leaning back against the headboard of her bed. She had told Helen that she felt much better, which was true. The intense nausea was gone, she felt well-rested, the headache had faded away, she was just... overall doing better. While, yes, she had a faint feeling of nausea in her stomach, it wasn't bad at all. Her lightheadedness had faded as well, for the most part. She was even able to get up and shower earlier that morning without feeling more than a head rush from dehydration.

"I'll get back to you soon," Helen says. "For now, I think you should talk to the others. Be social."

Wanda nods and starts walking off to the kitchen, a new sense of hope arising in her chest. She feels a smile make its way onto her face. The sunlight, coming through the windows of the rooms she passed, was oddly refreshing. It gave off a warm feeling, and she was so captivated by that feeling that she nearly tripped when she found her way to the staircase.

"Well, well, well," a feminine voice from the foot of the stairs says. "Someone's feeling better."

"A little," Wanda says. It was around ten in the morning, and Natasha was leaning against the wall on one side of the staircase, talking with the billionaire one step below her. Both had a mug of coffee in their hands.

"Want any coffee?" Tony tries to extend a hand to Wanda to help her make her way down the stairs, but she ignores it and walks past him.

"Yes, that would be nice," she tucks some hair behind her ear. From what, she didn't know, but she had quite a few bruises lined up and down her body. Her legs were a little sore, so, in retrospect, it probably would have been smart for her to have taken Tony's hand. She assumed that the soreness was because she had remained in bed for May 8th, the day she got back home, and through May 9th, the next day. Now was May 10th, when she was feeling much, much better.

She didn't even reach the coffee machine before a mug found its way into her hands, not from her hexes, but from the blonde standing in front of her.

"How do you feel?" Steve asks, letting go of the coffee mug once it's secure in Wanda's hands. Wanda sips it and looks up at him before answering.

"I feel better," she responds, a smile creeping onto her face as the familiar bitter aftertaste of the coffee comes through. She hated the taste of coffee, but Pietro used to bring her coffee in high school, when she had all-nighters on essays or projects. He didn't go to high school. He dropped out as soon as he could in order to work and allow them to pay rent. He also wanted to pay for her to go through college before HYDRA convinced them to join them instead... oddly, the memory didn't bring her grief. For a moment, she had it in her head that he wasn't dead, and it was reflex. Therefore, the memory did little to tamper down her peaceful joy. She repeats, "I feel a lot better."

Steve starts smiling too, leaning his elbow on the counter to take a more comfortable position. "That's good. Are you going to stay outside of your room today?"

"That's what I hope to do. It's been days since I went outside, so if you wouldn't mind..."

"Oh, go ahead. If you need anything, call me," Steve says, gesturing towards the front door, held open by a rock with painted flowers and a handprint. Wanda walks that way, stepping through the open door to go to the front porch. She saw two children playing outside with their dad. Cooper was wearing a helmet and holding baseball bat while Lila wore a softball glove and was standing a couple meters behind her father. There was a net behind Cooper to catch missed balls as Clint tosses him a ball from his position on the ground, on his knees.

Wanda watches, interested. She had seen people play baseball when she was in Sokovia, but it was odd to her that they would do so for fun. Both kids were grinning, though concentration showed in their eyes. Pietro, too, used to play sports for fun when they were little. Wanda preferred to talk with her parents or play make-believe with her friends. She never liked all the physical activity, nor did she (nor does she) like adrenaline rushes... Pietro loved both. She did, however, enjoy watching him. He would get so happy whenever he did something well or scored a point. Wanda never understood the rules but she could guess from his expression when he had done something right.

Wanda heard the bat hit the ball, then sees the ball propel straight towards the closed window next to her. Before it hits, though, she sends out some hexes, which knock the ball to the ground. Clint looks over, smiling.

"Look who's out of her room," he stands up. Wanda rolls her eyes slightly. Did everyone have to remark on that? She gets up and walks to Clint, who slowly approaches her. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thank you," she receives a hug from the man and returns it. It only lasts a moment or two before he pulls away.

"Go ahead and play with the kids. You just have to pitch and not get hit in the face," Clint says, starting to walk inside. "But take it easy, okay? I don't want you to be more hurt."

"Alright," she says, though a little unsure. She had only played this once when she was younger, and her brother accidentally hit her in the face when trying to pitch. The only positive aspect of the experience was that her parents brought her for ice cream after. She walks to the porch furniture and sets down her coffee on a little table before going out to the front yard.

"I'll supervise for a pitch or two," he assures her. She summons the ball to her hand and looks at Cooper, then serving it gently. He hit it again and it went into the air, almost perfectly vertical. Lila ran forward and managed to catch it as Cooper steps on first base.

"I caught it! You're out!"

Cooper pouts and starts going to the outfield to catch. Though he pouted, he was visibly proud of Lila's catch. That made Wanda smile a little as Lila rolls the ball back to her.

Clint watches, a soft smile on his face as he does so. They were getting along. He always suspected that Wanda would be one to fit perfectly into the family, and now his suspicions have been proven. He goes inside to chat with the others, seeing Tony, Natasha and Steve standing in a circle in the kitchen. They look at him when he comes inside.

"Wanda's playing with the kids," he leans against the counter. "So. We have quite a few things to talk about."

"She's doing a lot better," Tony says. "She was smiling when she came down."

"Yep. She even held conversation for a bit before she went outside," Steve looks through the open door as Wanda helps Lila put her helmet on over her bun. That made Steve smile a little. She looked a little confused and concerned, since she was obviously out of her element, but it was kind of cute to see her like that. Steve only looked back to the group when he felt on a tap on the shoulder.

"Hello? We're having a serious discussion and you're ogling," Natasha says, having interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm not ogling. I'm just surprised to see how quickly she's recovered," he defends. "I'm impressed."

"I was quipping."

"I was defending."

Clint sighs, "Both of you are getting defensive. Let's move on to a new topic. Laura and I are thinking of getting a dog."

Natasha just looks at him, "The kids would love that. Cooper's birthday is coming up, you can give him a puppy for his birthday."

Steve bites his lip and leaves the conversation, no longer interested. He saw Lila hit a ball outside and walks out there to watch. Clint's glove had been placed on the little staircase that goes up to the porch, so he quickly grabs it and puts it on, watching Cooper just barely miss catching the ball. Lila manages to make it to third base before her brother runs over to her, touching her to get her out at the exact moment Lila touched the base.

"You're out!"

"Am not! I'm safe!"

"I got you first."

Lila looks at Steve desperately, "Uncle Steve, did I make it or did Cooper get me out?"

Wanda was giggling dreamily as she watched. Steve smiles and says, "It was a tie. Same time."

Lila and Cooper huff in unison.

"Well, we can just redo it. Lila, go back to home. I'll pitch it this time, if Miss Maximoff will let me," he walks over to her.

"I'm sure you're much better at it than I am anyway," she says, still having that lovely little smile on her face as she steps aside. Cooper tosses him the ball and he catches it. Wanda goes to the porch and sits on the steps to watch. She decided to strike up conversation, "Have you done this beforehand?"

"What, baseball?" He chuckles. "I played. Nobody's saying that I played it well, but I did play for about five years."

Wanda smiles, "I imagine you were great."

"I wasn't this back then," he chuckles. "I was a tiny, asthma-ridden kid. I think in my whole baseball career, I hit maybe three balls. Including tee."

She tilts her head at him, curiously. She couldn't imagine him being small, being anything but the behemoth he was.

"I can show you pictures to help you visualize it," he says before Lila sits down at home base, getting bored and deciding to sit. Steve looks at her. "Sorry. Ready?"

"Yes!" She hops back up again, getting into position. Steve pitches and Lila hits the ball when it comes to her, making it go up in the air. Cooper starts running after the ball and Lila starts running bases, but Wanda's mind was elsewhere. This was nice. Everyone was happy in a peaceful way. Everything was fine. The biggest drama of the moment wasn't whether or not she would see the sun set that night, but whether or not Cooper had gotten Lila out. People were chatting instead of arguing or debating. The porch door was open to bring the pleasant warmth inside. Wanda felt safe and comfortable... everything was perfect for just that moment.

Wanda leans against the wooden railing of the small staircase that led to the front porch, but it leans too with her weight. It creaked and that surprised her. A moment after she pulls away from the piece of faulty wood, something cuts through her arm near her shoulder, like she had been cut with a knife. She winced and grabs the cut, which was now bleeding quite badly. Before she could say a word, someone comes up behind her and presses a cloth, a fabric napkin, against her new wound. Helen says, "What did you do? What happened?"

"I didn't do anything," she says quietly, a curious feeling of guilt flooding into her mind. She puts her hand on the fabric so Helen didn't have to. She looks at the wood again, seeing that there wasn't a piece of flesh stuck in a splinter like there would have been if she had cut it on there... but there wasn't even a splinter. The gash just... appeared.

She feels Helen pull the napkin away as Clint sits next to her. On the gash, Helen was now attaching stitches. Clint wraps an arm around Wanda and she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She began to remember again. Whenever she was hurt before, she and Pietro couldn't afford much. He would wrap up the wound in bandages and hold her until she felt better.

"You're falling apart, Wanda," he sighs.

"I know," she mutters, taking Clint's hand and squeezing it as Helen continues attaching stitches. It hurt, yes, but the joy she had felt moments before had been wiped away, which hurt more. Again, she felt numb. Within a couple moments, Helen finished up. A bandage was wrapped around her arm and Wanda sat, complicit, through it.

"I'll get you something to drink. Laura just finished making lemonade, would you like that?" He asks, gently rubbing her back. "We just installed a porch swing, you could sit on that for a bit. It can help you relax."

Wanda sighs and nods. She felt ridiculous. She couldn't even sit down without finding a way to hurt herself. She stood and went to the porch swing, sitting down and pulling her legs up onto the swing as well. It was built for more than one person, so she had plenty of room to do so. Tears began building in her eyes. She was an avenger, for god's sake. How could she be bested by something so badly?

Steve took a seat next to her.

"I'm not going to ask you what happened," Steve says. "My guess is that it was nothing and your powers somehow caused this. I am going to ask one thing: did you want this to happen?" He seemed concerned.

Wanda didn't answer. Birds were chirping and there were bugs chirping too, which sounded comforting but felt mocking. Of course, she didn't want this to happen, but if she said that, would anyone believe her?

"Wanda?"

He takes her hand. She looks at him, "Steve. I'm fine. I didn't want it to happen."

She pulls her hand away slowly.

The swing was gently swaying as a breeze blew through. She had her hair pulled to one side of her neck, so she felt it on the back of her neck. It startled her and sent a chill through her skin, giving her goosebumps. These goosebumps were made worse as Steve runs his fingertips over her arm, where she had a bruise.

"How'd you get this?"

"I probably ran into some furniture. Maybe it happened in the hospital," she looks at him and scoots a little closer. She really was falling apart. "I don't want to talk about it anymore..."

"Then I'll drop it," he gently rubs her uninjured arm.

"Thank you..." she rests her head on Steve's shoulder and buries her face in the fleece of his shirt, just listening to the sounds of the outdoors and reminding herself to be calm.


	7. Fireflies And Car Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Clint and Laura's anniversary, which calls for a bonfire. When Wanda gets cold, however, Steve brings her a jacket he shouldn't have ever touched.

The sun was low in the sky. The cut on Wanda's arm was nearly healed, but she still wore a bandage around the scab so it wouldn't get irritated. It was May 19th, which was apparently Clint and Laura's 11th anniversary. To celebrate, they were having a barbecue outside. Cooper was currently showing off his musical skills on a guitar. He played a folksy song that was in his music book. Lila was crouched down on the other side if the giant bonfire from her parents, hoping they couldn't see her roasting a marshmallow an hour earlier than she was supposed to. Wanda was helping her, only because she knew Clint and Laura wouldn't care at all if Lila had an extra s'mores. Wanda was holding two graham crackers, each with a small square of chocolate on them. She was back to smiling. Yes, she had cuts and bruises show up every once in a while, but nothing very bad. Yes, she had some sleeping issues, but she was functioning.

"Perfect!" Wanda says. "Pull it out now!"

Lila nods quickly and does so. The marshmallow was on fire, but Lila had previously told Wanda that she liked it burnt. Wanda was grinning widely as Lila blew out the small fire, then quickly puts the marshmallow between the graham crackers and extracts the stick of metal from the blackened gooey mess. She hands the concoction to Lila and watched her hurry off to eat it.

"You shouldn't help her behind my back," Laura says, walking around the fire once Lila had run away. "She's already got a sugar addiction."

"Don't all children her age?" Wanda asks, sitting on a log nearby. Steve and Tony had cut down a couple trees for them, making seats out of the trunks. It, surprisingly, only took a couple hours to cut down a couple trees, cut out a few logs, and sand them down into seats. The rest of the trees were in the fire already, which was starting to come in handy. Fireflies were soothingly flying about, blinking and buzzing, but the cold was quickly approaching. Laura had warned them of this previously, so Wanda wore leggings... and another pair of leggings over those leggings. Her arms were starting to get cold, since she only wore one of her sleep shirts and not a jacket or anything warm.

"You've got a point," Laura sits next to her. "But I would argue that we only have just enough marshmallows."

"She can have mine," Wanda says, looking at the woman before her. Laura rolls her eyes.

"No, she can't. She'll have nightmares if she has too much sugar before bed."

At that, Wanda just nods. She didn't want to admit that she wasn't exactly a fan of s'mores. She and her brother had tried it once; obviously, he loved it. She didn't exactly like it, but she had also gotten hers caught on fire as Lila's had been. Maybe if she had it prepared a different way, she would feel the same way her brother did.

A wind comes through. Not a breeze, but a wind. It breathed on the fire and made the chill Wanda had felt before intensify. By now, the sun was starting to set.

A small blanket went over Laura's shoulders, which she took in her hands and pulled around her arms, smiling up at the man above her.

"How are you two doing?" Clint asks, standing behind his wife and leaning to be just over her.

"We're just lovely," she tips her head up and plants a kiss on his jaw, unable to reach his lips from the way he was standing. "What about you?"

"I'm great. I have Cap covering the grill, Tony's arguing with him... everyone's nice and distracted."

Wanda nods and looks around. Natasha was sitting with Cooper, listening to him trying to figure out how to strum a song unfamiliar to her. It was nice. She had a feeling that this time around, this time that she felt so calm and safe, this time, she wouldn't be hurt by some unforeseeable incident. Another wind comes through and she shivers again. She had gotten used to the warm and sometimes hot weather. At home, this chill would be considered a warm day.

"Are you cold?" Clint asks.

"A little," she says, beginning to stand up. "I'll go get a jacket, I'll be right back out."

Steve had left the conversation with Tony at this point. As soon as Wanda said this, Steve jumps into the conversation, "You can stay here. I'll go get you a jacket."

He gives her a smile before starting to walk off. Wanda sits down, watching the man hurry off. She looks to Clint and Laura. Clint had his arms around Laura, and he was swaying softly, as if they followed the beat to a soft piece of music. He had yet to sit down with her. The scene was kind of mesmerizing. Laura with her eyes closed, Clint looking at her face... Both had smiles on their faces. They looked at peace with each other, like they were still completely in love after 11 years of marriage.

Wanda feels a jacket being placed on her shoulders, but a musky, familiar smell came from it, a scent that she had almost locked away in her memory. She froze for a moment as Steve sat beside her. She takes the jacket off of her shoulders and looks at the sleeves, seeing familiar arrows running down the arms.

"Why did you get this?" She asks, not looking up from the jacket.

"You were cold. It was sitting on your dresser, I assumed—"

Wanda shakes her head before hugging the jacket close, beginning to ramble as she looks at the jacket, "This is Pietro's jacket, I gave it to him last year on our birthday, he loves this jacket, I can't—"

"You're cold," Steve says, taking her hand. "Take a breath. He'd want you to use it."

"I don't want to use it," she stands up quickly, though holding the jacket close to her. She could still smell her brother's musk in the fabric. It calmed her down a little to just stand there, inhaling his familiar scent from the jacket. Her eyes closed and she just kept holding it, not moving. She then slowly sits down again. Since she had been holding it, it felt warm now. She puts the jacket on, wanting to be wrapped up in him again. Whenever it was cold, he would just hold her to warm her up. He had done this since they were little. He was the protector. She was the one in need of protecting. The one moment where she should have protected him, she didn't.

"Wanda...?" The way she had just gone silent and sat down was worrying Steve. It was like something had taken over her body. He didn't mean to upset it like that. "I can get you a different jacket, don't—"

"Quiet," Wanda responds, pulling the zipper up. "Just... sit next to me, please?"

Steve complies, then Wanda scoots close to him, taking his arm and wrapping it around her. Steve was surprised for a moment, but nobody seemed to be watching. Wanda leans into his side, closing her eyes and pulling the hood up. Steve felt warm, but he wasn't slim like Pietro. Pietro was a runner, he had strong, effective muscles that were aerodynamic. Steve... Steve wasn't that. He was more prone to attacking without needing to run. Wanda pulled the fabric closer, trying her best to feel him again.

Tony was watching her, somehow knowing exactly what she was doing. Steve was looking down to Wanda, keeping an arm around her and gently rubbing her arm. Steve thought she was cold. Tony knew better. The only problem: he didn't know how to help her.

Wanda looks just kept her eyes closed, listening, feeling, and imagining. She could almost see it. Pietro would be sitting with Cooper, trying to remember how to play guitar to help him. He would share anecdotes about how Papa had wanted both of them to know piano and guitar, but how they couldn't afford either, so they would just go to the high school, using the piano in the band room. They once came on a day where a junior was practicing guitar, so Pietro got to learn that for a day. Wanda was content just playing the piano because she was starting to learn how to play notes on two hands at once.

Steve had shifted, thinking she was asleep and checking for a moment. Wanda opened her eyes and looked at him through her hood. Wanda then felt a tear passively drip from her eye, prompted by the chilly air and the smoke from the bonfire. She stands up, "I'm going to turn in. I'll see you in the morning."

She could meditate. She had done it so well once that she felt like she had gone into another reality. Maybe she could think about Pietro while she meditated and maybe it would be like before, maybe she could see him, feel him, be with him. She glanced back to make sure nobody was following her, but saw Tony conversing with Steve. She then saw Steve look right at her, making eye contact. He then started walking towards the house.

Wanda goes inside and starts going to her room. She looked around, thinking of how to get comfortable. She pulled a large pillow from the bed onto the ground and starts to get situated. She wanted to disappear for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, starting to settle before the door creaked.

"What?" She opens her eyes. Steve was leaning on the doorframe, looking worried.

"Do you usually sleep like this?"

Wanda stands up, "I'm not sleeping. I'm going to meditate."

Steve then goes to the bed and sits on it, "What happened out there? You changed."

"I was tired," she says. "What do you think happened?"

"I think you put on your brother's jacket and tried to pretend that I was him," Steve says. "And that's not healthy, Wanda."

She started glaring a little at Steve, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you're not moving on. You've obviously not accepted his death."

"Yes, I have. I've accepted it. I just miss him," her voice wavered when she said 'miss'. Her hands began to tremble as emotion built up in her chest, spilling into her throat and creating a lump, which tried to choke her words.

"You're in denial," Steve tried to keep his tone passive, knowing that she wasn't in her best mind. "We want to help you move on." This set Wanda off.

"Why should I move on? I can't just move on from losing him!" She was balling up her fists at this point, though her expression held only fear. Her eyebrows furrowed, her teeth were gritted, her eyes had tears in them, threatening to reveal her true emotion. She was getting mad, but she was also devastated.

"You need help. We're here to help you. If you need, Tony can hire a therapist for you," Steve says. "It worries us to see you like this."

"I don't want help!" She shrieks.

"You might not want it, but you need it," he walks over and tries to take her hands, but she stepped back.

"I don't need help, then! I need space!"

"We've been giving you space and it isn't helping," he reaches to take her hand again, trying to make her calm. Wanda just shook her head and walked past him, starting to leave the room. Steve follows still as she begins shouting.

"Then give me more space!"

"This is just making things worse," he grabs her wrist and a wave of force comes out from the contact, pushing him back a couple yards. She then grabs the keys to Clint's truck. This set off red flags in Steve's mind. "Where are you going?"

"If you people won't give me space, I'll get it myself!" She shouts. Steve tries to go after her but little red hexes held onto his shirt, holding him back. She goes through the door and slams it, though it slowly drifted open again because of the faulty hinges. Just as she released Steve, she goes to the car, unlocking it and getting in. Steve began chasing after her, hoping to change her mind, but to nothing. Wanda began driving off, not intending on coming back that night. Maybe in the morning, she decided. She could go a couple miles, then pull over when she got tired and sleep.

 

A couple hours past a couple miles in, she wasn't tired. It was nearly 2 am. She still had her blood boiling. Clint lived outside somewhere called Suffern Village in rural New York, and now, she was in Virginia. She was near Harrisonburg, but she was running out of steam. She was on an interstate at this point, so she pulls off at the next exit. She parks the car in a quaint parking lot, then turns the car off.

Finally, she had gotten her wish. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Surely, this is what she wanted. Surely, this was what she needed. It had to be, right? After fighting to be alone, after stealing a car... this should help, right?

Wanda leaned the seat back to lay and closed her eyes, cuddling up in Pietro's jacket. The scent of him was lost on it; it now smelled of nothing. Tears began in her eyes. _He's gone._ She told herself. _All of him._


	8. New Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Wanda gone, Stella has a chance to snake her way into the Avengers, beginning her and Pietro's plan of bringing Wanda away with them.

The first time the reborn Pietro saw Wanda, she was smiling.

She was sitting on the ground in the living room while two children taught her how to play a game called 'Sorry!'. She had a bandage wrapped around her arm with a little blood soaked through, but she was otherwise quite well. She looked... happy. Every once in a while, someone would say something and she would visibly zone out, but she didn't seem to be struggling with much. Pietro knew that she was a lousy actress, that the smile she put on was very different from her genuine smiles. This smile was something new. It seemed like a mix of the two, like she was trying to convince someone she was happy while she actually kind of was.

The first time the reborn Pietro saw Wanda, he didn't know who she was smiling for.

Later on that week, as Wanda faced different emotions, he had seen her light a candle. He had seen her speak to the candle and cry, but she was still smiling through her tears. He could read her lips sometimes and saw the familiar shapes they make whenever she says his name. She also saw her apologize a couple times before slowly calming down. It became obvious that she still had no idea how to function in grief. She wasn't used to having time to mourn someone.

This time, it was obvious who she was smiling for.

As he kept watching her, Stella managed to scout out the team, tell the weak links. She was waiting for the right day to strike. Both of them were supposed to be, but Pietro was looking for enemies instead. Wanda had had several arguments with the others, ones which would usually make Pietro hate the others, but she kept insisting on being alone. Pietro knew what she wanted wasn't seclusion. He wanted to come and tell her what she really wanted.

He knew she wanted to feel safe.

Pietro watched the car leave the house. He saw her tearstained face from his hiding spot in the wood surrounding the house on two sides. He had seen her scream at the people who she was staying with and most importantly, he had seen them try to stop her from leaving. He had seen earlier when Steve put the jacket over Wanda's shoulders and how uncomfortable she had been. While Steve was right, he did want Wanda to wear it if she was cold, he didn't like how Wanda reacted. He had seen her stop struggling, and he had seen how terribly she was coping.

He had seen her method of moving on.

More importantly, he had seen this method fail her.

The Avengers retired inside to talk this over, but Pietro and Stella took this opportunity to make up a game plan.

"I can go in tonight. You can watch your sister, make sure she doesn't come back for a while."

Pietro just shook his head.

"What? Why?" Stella asks, shocked. "You can take care of her from far away, I know that's what you want to do. What if she gets hurt?"

Stella had been listening to Pietro's worries. He would constantly mutter about his sister under his breath, silently wondering how she would fare and if she would hurt herself.

"I can't."

"What?" She was completely confused.

"I can't go after her alone, Stella," he gently takes the blonde's hand. "I'll tell her. She'll see me."

Stella glances him up and down and sighs, "Pietro, I'm going to go in there tomorrow. You will have to stake out if you're not going with her."

Pietro just purses his lips before Stella walks off, going back to the jet.

 

The next day, as promised, Stella was going to go to the house. Wanda was not back by noon, so that was when Stella decided to come in. After giving herself a couple cuts and bruises and ripping some of her clothes, she looked as if she had gotten lost in the woods and had been wandering for a day or so. Pietro seemed distracted as he helped her, which Stella understood. She told him to make sure nobody saw him before slowly emerging from the woods, a smile creeping onto her face. This felt wrong to do. It felt wrong to make herself known. She had been stalking these people from a distance for so long... the thought of needing to talk to them almost made her panic.

She slowly makes her way to the house, pursing her lips nervously. A conversation was going on inside and it seemed heated; someone mentioned vision coming or having a vision or something of the matter, but this seemed to be a controversial remark. She moves to knock before the conversation ends with a 'someone's here'. The door opens suddenly.

"Who are you?" A redhead asks, looking Stella up and down suspiciously. Stella doesn't manage to say anything, freezing up. She takes a slow step back, panic setting in again. Without another word, someone else, a man this time, steps in front of the redhead.

"Excuse her, we're all just a little high strung..." a tall, muscly man whom she identified as Steve said. "Are you lost?"

"Uh..." Stella nods slowly. She calmed down a bit. She could no longer hear her heartbeat in her ears. She swallows the nervous lump in her throat. "Yeah. I am..."

"What's your name?" Steve asks.

"Stella," she replies easier this time. She was quickly getting used to these people. The fear was fading from her chest.

"Who's at the door?" A voice from inside calls. "If it's the Girl Scout again—"

"It's not," the redhead, whom Stella had quickly realized was, in fact, the assassin Natasha Romanoff, says. "It's a woman. She's lost."

"Yeah... is there any way I could come in?" Stella asks. "I'll be out of your hair soon-"

"No, that's not necessary. You can sleep on the couch if you want," Steve says. Stella nods before Steve steps to the side, inviting her in nonverbally. Stella steps in and looks around, seeing all of the people whom she had waited years to meet. Ever since 2012... she stuffs her clenched fists in her pocket to keep from doing anything at the moment. She felt her chest burn with a mix of rage and sadness and kept looking around for a moment. This was not what she expected. It was awkward, there was a tragic air around. Stella suspected it was because Wanda had left, but she hadn't expected everyone to be so affected.

She clears her throat and goes into the couch, sitting down and looking around. She wished they could begin a conversation, but people were just murmuring.

"Do you believe her?" Clint whispers to Tony. "I don't trust her. Why did she come today, of all days? The day after Maximoff left. It's too much of a coincidence."

They didn't think she could hear, but alas, she could.

"Do we really have a choice, here?" Tony responds. "What else are we gonna do? We're fifteen miles out of town and she took the car. I have my suit, but we have no other mode of getting her somewhere. We can't just kick her out."

"Why not?" Romanoff asks, not bothering to whisper. "I don't trust her. Kick her out."

"Natasha!" Clint shouts before returning to a whisper. "Don't talk about someone like that when they can hear you."

Stella didn't find this offensive. She found it to be an opportunity for empathy, make them feel pity or guilty for her. She had seen it as effective to appeal to empathy in the small ways in order to convince someone that you have no malicious intent. She stood up slowly and said, "It... It's okay. I didn't expect to even be let in... I know when I'm not welcome, I'll just go."

Tony shakes his head, "You don't have to leave. You didn't do anything. Natasha here is just being ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous, I'm being careful. You should try it sometime," the redhead retorts.

Tony sighs, "Natasha, just-"

"If she kills one of you, I'm going to say I told you so," she says, oddly without spite on her tongue. She was saying such threatening words without a threatening tone. Natasha then turns and walks away. "I'm going to keep trying to track down Wanda. If you guys want to become friends with the strange lady who came out of the woods, be my guest."

She kept walking, the sound of her light footsteps slowly fading until the sound was replaced by a door closing. Silence then ensued.

Stella was intrigued by the woman. She had, yes, made things difficult, but... the manner in which she did to pique her interest. She started to walk after where Natasha had gone, curious. The blonde had seemed to rub her the wrong way almost instantly.

She gently pulls her hand up and knocks on the door of the room which the redhead was in. None of the others had warned her, exactly, but they had given her a concerned expression. She wonders why for a moment before she hears the woman inside say, "The door isn't locked. There's nothing stopping you from opening the door."

"I figured you wouldn't want me to enter," Stella says as she opens the door. Natasha stands up from the desk at which she sat slowly, sighing.

"I don't. I'm just saying, you shouldn't bother to knock. There's no reason," she still had a reserved and almost calm expression as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why don't you trust me?" Stella asks. "You don't even know me..."

"Exactly," Natasha says, looking her up and down. "How did you get in the woods?"

"Me and my friends were out drinking last night. I blacked out and woke up... I would say a mile away, but I'm not sure exactly how far that is or how far I walked," Stella says. "I passed about a million trees and a stream... if that lowers it down."

Natasha smiles softly at that, finding the apparent boneheadedness of this girl to be kind of adorable. She then looks back at her and says, "What's your name again?"

"Stella," she says, smiling a little before she sat on the bed in Natasha's room. "Well— technically, it's Julianna. Nobody calls me that."

"Julianna," Natasha smiles to herself. "You look like a Julianna. If nobody calls you that, I'll be the first one. What's your last name?"

"What are you, a lawyer?" Stella asks with a chuckle before making up a fake last name for herself. Her real last name was Oliver, which was her mother's last name. People always called her mom Frankie Oli. She never knew why they even bothered to call her by her last name if they would just end up shortening it anyways. Her mind immediately went to her mom's boyfriend, Kyle Stevenson. She decided to take his name. The whole thought process only amounted to a moment of simple forgetfulness. "Stevenson. With a V."

"Well, Julianna Stevenson-with-a-V, what are some other things you think might be important to tell me?" Natasha asks. At this point, Stella had realized that she had made a mistake. Natasha was interrogating her.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I'm an only child. Is that important?"

She was not. She was one of four kids, the only girl. She was also the second-youngest. However, her little brother lives with her father and her older brothers were already out of the house by the time she reached kindergarten. She was raised almost like an only child, she liked to think.

"Really?" Natasha asks. "Where did you go to college?"

"College, are you kidding?" Stella asks, continuing to pepper in the truth about little things while maintaining her lie. "I go drinking in the woods, is that really the crowd you think I'd fall in with?"

Romanoff shrugs, though the smug smile on her face was slowly fading. She was starting to believe Stella, and that was the last thing she wanted. She hated to be wrong, and to be wrong about something like this would be an insult to her training.

"I suppose not," she concedes. Stella let go the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"So... now can we have a normal human conversation?" Stella asks.

"Yeah," the assassin puts on a smile again. She was supposed to be relieved, right? This girl didn't seem to be anything really. She had paused before saying her last name. A great trained spy or assassin would have just said it instantly. Natasha decided to look her up, later on, see if she was who she claimed to be. For now, though, she decided to maybe give this girl a chance. She seemed nice enough to become friends with and naive enough to actually get lost while doing what she claimed to be doing. She wasn't airtight, but no true story is. "So... do you have any topics we can talk about?"

"We can talk about you," Stella says. "What's your story?"

"Believe me, you don't care about my backstory. It's not all that interesting."

Bullshit. Stella knew Natasha's backstory through and through. She knew everything about her. They didn't have much to read in the camp excluding files and Stella adored going through the files of the famed Black Widow. Hers were honestly the most interesting case files she ever got to read; there may have been more interesting ones, but she didn't have the clearance for them. Hell, she didn't even have clearance to read her own files.

"Well, surely you can think of something?" She asks. "Any interesting stories? Any fun facts about you?"

Natasha shakes her head, "Stella, not everything is interesting. Some people lead boring lives."

"Well, what about the girl who left? Any interesting stories about her?"

Natasha shrugs, though she seemed more relaxed about that topic, "They're not my stories to tell, but they're pretty interesting. Get comfortable, I'll tell you a bit about her."


	9. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision comes into the household to ensure that Wanda does not leave again once she returns; Sam Wilson comes to Wanda and convinces her to return home.

Within three days, the household had become accustomed to Stella's presence. Stella had gotten used to being there with everyone, though she couldn't help but want to tell them about Pietro.

Natasha had explained Wanda's backstory, though she already knew most of it from what Pietro had said and from what she had seen for those 11 days where she had been stalking her. Stella had learned all of her mannerisms, all of her tells, and was ready to engage in part two of the plan: pushing Wanda away. For now, she was cozy at the home. Lila and Cooper, Clint's children, had come to like her after she taught them how to make brownies the night after she had arrived.

She woke up on her first morning in the home fairly early. She slept on the couch, having insisted that she didn't need her own bed, and the first thing she saw was a purplish-reddish man-ish thing hovering over her, inspecting her.

She immediately tried to push the creature away before a calming but metallic voice said, "You do not need to defend yourself. I will not hurt you."

She sat up slowly, skeptical of this... thing. She had to admit, she kind of did like that it sounded English.

"Who and what are you?" She asks. "How did you get here?"

"My name is Vision. I was invited," it replies. "You must be Stella."

Stella was understandably confused by this creature's sudden arrival. She hadn't heard a single word about him coming, yet, here he was. What even was he?

"Uh... yeah. How do you know my name?" She stands up, putting a little distance between herself and the robotic entity.

"Mr. Stark told me," he replies simply. Stella was making her way around the couch before Tony walks downstairs calmly.

"Vision, you're here, finally," Tony says, greeting the robot casually. "How was the trip?"

"It was well," he replies simply before looking at Stella again. He opens his mouth to speak before Tony speaks again.

"I see you've met Stella. She came here yesterday morning. We checked her alibi and she seemed to be an actual person," Tony says, going into the kitchen to make coffee. The stairs gently creaked to announce the arrival of Natasha, who was wearing a robe over her pajamas. She walks into the kitchen and smiles softly upon seeing the two already down there.

"Stark— how is it that I always come downstairs while you're standing at the coffee grinder?" She asks. Tony rolls his eyes and keeps working on the coffee. The redhead then looks at Stella. "I did some research on you last night. It looks like your story checks out, Miss Stevenson-with-a-v."

"You know, you can just call me Stella," she rolls her eyes. Natasha shrugs before going to a cabinet, pulling out two empty mugs.

"Frankly, I think Julianna is a much prettier name," she hands an empty mug to her.

"Please don't tell me you'll be calling me Julianna from now on," Stella rolls her eyes before Vision approaches again.

"I personally agree with Natasha," Vision adds in. "Julianna was your birth name, and it's very graceful. Do you know what Julianna means?"

"I've heard a gazillion different meanings. Odds are, I've heard the right one," Stella says before turning to switch the conversation to something with Tony. Natasha steps in front of her as if to stop her.

"If you don't want me to, I could just call you Stella. I just think Julianna suits you better," Natasha says before Tony nearly interrupts her.

"Coffee's ready. Get a cup, then we can discuss today's itinerary."

For a moment, the word was lost on Stella. Once she remembered what it meant, she replies, "And what's the itinerary?"

"Figuring out how long you'll be here. Oh, and what to do with the robot's sleeping arrangements."

 

Wanda stayed in Virginia for three days.

On the first day, she just stayed in the car until it got too hot, then she drove to a more metropolitan town. Once she was satisfied with her choice of nearby Charlottesville, she decided to park in a public garage and walk around the city for a bit to clear her head. She wandered aimlessly, only going into shops to cool down or take a seat. She returned to the car that night and slept in the backseat again, having forgotten to eat that day. Despite the summer heat, she never removed Pietro's jacket even for a moment.

On the second day, she discovered a credit card in the crevice between the driver's seat and the armrest. She used this to buy herself some clothes to keep her cool and a night in a hotel. She stayed inside the hotel the entire day. She bought herself a meal at the pseudo-bistro in the lobby and took a shower. She found herself breathing easier for a couple hours that day, seeing as the grime was off of her skin and she had the energy to do something other than wander. She had laid Pietro's jacket near her and only put it on when she got cold. She didn't bother to get under the sheets until early that evening, when she decided to take a nap.

On the morning of the third day, she was awoken by a knock on her hotel room's door. It wasn't early. She had fallen asleep around five-thirty the night before and had slept until nearly noon. Usually, too much sleep made her groggy. This time, though, she felt oddly refreshed. She had taken off the jacket before going to bed, though it sat laid out on the seat near her. She slowly stood up from under the sheets, going to the door. She expected to see the maid, but when she looked through the peephole, she instead saw a familiar face.

"Wanda," the man's voice says. "Come on out. I know you're in here."

Wanda slowly opened the door to face the man on the other side. She says quietly, "Why are you here?"

Sam Wilson, one of Steve's colleagues from his bout in DC, stood with his arms crossed. He says simply, "They miss you. They're worried about you. Go back to 'em."

She opens the door wider and Sam steps in.

"How did you find me?"

"Clint got a text from his credit card company," he gently closes the door, then gestures for Wanda to follow him as he sits on the bed. "He knew it was a long, long drive, so he sent me."

She took a seat beside him slowly. She didn't say a word, so Sam carried on the conversation.

"Life goes on. You do know that, right? You've been through a lot more shit in your life than any of us can imagine. No matter what, life has always gone on, right?"

She still didn't respond. He knew she was listening. She was too smart not to.

"What have you been doing since you left?" Sam asks. This time, Wanda does answer.

"I just... I've been wandering. I walked around a bit in the city the day before yesterday and I just stayed inside yesterday," her accent came out a little stronger. An unknown emotion pushed at her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak or not. She wasn't sure whether or not she could speak at all anymore. The memories of the past two weeks had been fused together. She couldn't tell one day from another or pull one specific memory out. She had been living in a haze. The only memory she could think of at the moment was the tear-clouded view she had of the bonfire, of screaming at Steve Rogers, of stealing Clint's keys and vowing to herself never to return. This memory wasn't poignant because it was a proud moment for her. The emotion it gave her was too complicated to put into words. It was a mix of pride, shame, relief and regret...

"You should go home. Even if it's just to pick up your stuff and say goodbye," Sam says slowly and quietly. Usually, it would sound demeaning or patronizing, but it was comforting coming from him. Wanda feels him take her shaky hand in his. "I'll drive you if you want me to."

Wanda looks down again. This time, the feeling she had was clear: shame. She gently leans into him, saying under her breath, "Thank you..."

She had never spoken deeply with Sam before, they had only really met twice, but the way he spoke and the calm demeanor of his voice made her feel like everything would be okay. Maybe it was because he used to work with people like her: people who have undergone a trauma, people who need help.

"Just say the word and we can go. We'll pick up some breakfast if you want, but you don't have to drive."

"I can get back by myself," she stands and begins gathering her discarded and used clothes.

"Thing is— you don't have to," he responds simply. "It's not a burden for me to help you. From what I heard, that seems to be a concern for you. From the way they told me you were when you left, I think you're doing better. We can go for a drive and try not to undo what good you've done."

Wanda takes a deep breath and nods slowly, "Thank you..."

"Don't thank me," Sam stands up. "I was going to come up there eventually anyway."

He extends a hand to her and she gently takes it, allowing him to lead her out of the hotel room.

The pair arrived home around 8:45 that night. They had taken a couple stops along the way for food and gas, but the drive seemed shorter than the drive away had been. The rolling hills which guarded the farmhouse were enough to make Wanda just a little sleepy, though something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. For a moment, her eye had played a trick on her. She thought she had seen something white in the trees flanking the hills, but it was gone as soon as she looked that way.

"What?" Sam asks. He had been listening to NPR, but turns it down to chat.

"Nothing. I just thought I saw something," she says.

"Huh. What was it?" He asks.

"I'm not sure. It was whitish. It was probably a bird or something."

Sam nods as the house came into view. The door was open still. Because of the way the sun set in the summer, the fireflies were still outside. Lila and Cooper were chasing them with jars before they see the headlights of Sam and Wanda's car. The children then rush inside as Sam parks the car. A new, nervous feeling rushed through Wanda, chilling her limbs. She began to realize that maybe she didn't want to come home. They would only question her, unintentionally (or intentionally? She wasn't sure) guilt her and make her regret both leaving and coming back, but she needed to pack up. Sam comfortingly took her hand as a few people leave the house.

Steve and Clint were outside first, but Tony and the kids followed soon after. When the car came to a stop and the whine of the brake made her heart sink a little, something new piqued her interest.

Standing inside, leaning out the front window leading to the porch, was a girl. A new girl. She had blonde, nearly white hair and a striking but oddly familiar face. She couldn't place where she knew her, but she knew she had seen her before. The feeling, however, began to fade as Clint began approaching the car. Wanda gets out and silently walks inside, ignoring as Clint asks if she's okay, if she was going to stay, and if she was still mad. She goes to her old bedroom and begins to pack. Her hexes sped up the process with her drawers and closet being quickly opened, the various items of clothing flying into a duffle bag pulled out from under the bed.

Clint had followed her and closes the door behind her, "Wanda, just take a second to breathe and talk to us, okay?"

"There's nothing to talk about," she replies snidely. The duffle bag was full at this point and it zips itself closed.

"Wanda," his voice was more stern. "This isn't a choice anymore. You're angry and you're emotional. You're going to make bad decisions."

She stopped moving. Clint misread it as her taking a moment to think until he noticed hexes dancing around her fingers. She was getting rid of her energy, trying to contain herself before she hurt someone. He locks the door and sits on her bed.

"Just calm down, okay? Stop tensing up and sit down. Relax for a moment."

This time, Wanda was more complicit. After all, she had listened to Sam and had felt so much better. She sits on the bed next to him.

"You're angry, aren't you?" He asks.

She didn't say a word, only nodding her head to confirm.

"There isn't anything I can say to make you less angry, right?"

She nods again.

"Then I won't say anything."

There came a moment of silence. The two left around three feet between them, just letting themselves think.

Clint thought about Wanda. He had no control over her. He had no control over any aspect of the situation. She didn't want to confront her problems, so maybe he shouldn't have forced her to. The silence was torturous to him, he couldn't imagine how much worse it was for Wanda.

"Vision is here now. Helen left yesterday, since Viz's going to be making sure everyone is in good health instead," Clint says. "The day after you left, a girl arrived. Stella. Natasha seems to trust her now, so I think she's safe."

Wanda looks at him. The chat made the weight on her chest feel less intense. She replies quietly, "I think I know her. She seems familiar."

"Does she? I think she just has that kind of face," he replies. "She's nice. I think you and her would get along."

Wanda doesn't say another word, just scooting closer to Clint and laying her head on his shoulder. She takes his hand, feeling more serene at this point. She says weakly, "I'm sorry for leaving. I-"

"No, no. It's okay. You were mad and you needed space, I understand," he assures her. She takes a deep breath, then smiles softly.

"Thank you..." she closes her eyes and feels Clint gently play with her fingers before soothingly tracing circles on her palm.

Clint looks at her, "Are you still going to leave...?"

No words leave Wanda's lips before she turned her face into his shirt. She shakes her head, feeling her lip begin to quiver.

"No?" He keeps tracing circles on her hand.

"No..." she keeps shaking her head, a smile coming to her lips despite tears beginning to build in her eyes. "I- I'm staying..."

"You're staying?" He asks. He starts smiling a little too. Wanda sniffles and wipes her eyes before any water dripped onto her cheek.

She needed the time away. A couple days had healed her better than all the time she had spent at the farmhouse, but she wanted to be home. Now she was home.


	10. How Proud I Am Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella meets with Pietro to share some news about Wanda's homecoming. Pietro sneaks around and finds a way where he just might be able to see his sister up close again.
> 
> {originally written May 1}

Stella left the house the hour Wanda came back. Nobody really noticed, having been so deeply focused on the drama indoors. She didn't leave for long, not even a couple minutes, so she knew it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Even if someone did notice, she could tell them that she just wanted to go for a walk.

She made her way to the woods. She figured that Pietro would like to hear that Wanda was back, but she also figured that he already knew.

"Nobody followed me. You can come out," Stella says, sitting on a log.

"I'm not hiding, Stella. I'm making sure you're alone," Pietro says calmly, stepping out from the woods and sitting on a log across from her. He had a spliff in one hand, between his index and middle finger. "What is it?"

"She's back," Stella says in a sing-songy voice. "Your sister is back."

"I know. I watched her car come in," he says, flicking his thumb against the filter to urge some of the burnt embers from the jay between his fingers before taking a quick drag. "You're supposed to be in there, not out here."

He let the smoke escape his lips with his words before blowing the rest from his lungs.

"C'mon, Piet, I missed you," Stella says. Pietro freezes up once she says this before immediately taking another drag, much longer this time. "You were my only friend for a bit."

"You can't make friends with them," he replies, though he knew that wasn't what she had meant. He pauses his words to exhale the smoke. "This is a rescue mission, remember? We're getting my sister and after that, we're going back to the base. This isn't the time to align yourself with a new group."

He takes yet another drag, holding it for a moment this time. Stella began to smell the smoke.

"I thought I was supposed to make friends."

"You're supposed to make them trust you. You're not supposed to trust them," he let out a small huff after this. There was an abnormal feeling in his head, like a little fizz in his brain. He attributed this to smoke, but it didn't feel like it usually did. He only then realized that his body was on autopilot, that he honestly had only been speaking whatever came to his mind, which seemed more like intrusive thoughts than actual, conscious thought. He slowly let out the rest of his smoke before immediately taking another hit.

"How many of those have you had?" Stella asks. Pietro looks at the jay and shrugs.

"Why does it matter?" He keeps smoking.

"I only brought one pack. That shit's expensive," she says. "So how many have you had?"

"This is my second since you left, okay?" He says. "You don't have to overreact."

Stella sighs, "C'mere. Give it to me."

Pietro rolls his eyes and hands it to her, "So— why are you here?"

"To tell you that your sister's back," she takes a long, slow drag before handing the spliff back to him.

"Well, now you've told me," Pietro says. "Now go back before they realize you're gone."

"I'm sure I have a couple more minutes."

As if on cue, a feminine voice calls out, "Julianna!"

Pietro puts the spliff to his lips, shrugging as if to say that he had called it. He didn't breathe in, just keeping the rolling paper on his dry lips.

"Go," he stands and starts to leave. "Good luck with your excuse."

Pietro speeds off. The tiny stream of smoke from his jay dissipating as he leaves. As soon as the streaks following him fade, Natasha starts jogging that way. Stella stands up, starting to approach her.

"Don't you want to meet Wanda?" Natasha asks before she gets closer, then her face scrunches up. "Ugh... were you smoking?"

"Uh... yeah," Stella replies, taking Natasha's hand. Covering up for Pietro's smoking was an easy decision, but she was disappointed that she only got one hit. "To both."

Natasha shakes her head and starts walking back to the farmhouse. She was kind of suspicious about Stella now, seeing as she didn't realize that she had brought anything to smoke.

When they came inside, everyone was gathered around in silence. Each had an anxious look on their faces, waiting to hear about Wanda. Steve and another man, whom Stella had seen arrive alongside Wanda, were the only ones not in the living room; they hid away in the kitchen, speaking quietly to one another. Stella bites her lip as she looks over.

_This is a rescue mission. This is a mission._

She slowly approaches them, deciding to get some water and eavesdrop.

"Sam, I'm worried about her," Steve says.

"Don't be. I can hang around, give her someone to talk to. She really opens up when you make her comfortable," the guy named 'Sam' replies. "I think it would be best for you and the others not to confront her. You'll say the wrong thing, she'll panic and leave. She's fragile right now."

Fragile? Please. Stella rolls her eyes. Without thinking, she retorts in reply, "I think she would more appreciate it if you don't talk about her like that."

At this, Sam steps away from Steve. He says, "And who are you?"

"My name is Stella," she replies. "You're Sam, right?"

"Yeah," he leans against the counter. "You haven't met Wanda, right? I haven't heard about you from her."

"No, I haven't," but she already knew more of her strength than they would ever be able to. "But I can make a lucky guess. You don't have to patronize her."

She subconsciously leans against the counter as well, seen his relaxed stance as a power play.

"I'm not patronizing her. I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't," she interrupts. She sips her water and starts walking off.

Sam was intrigued by her, but shook his head, "Is she always like that?"

Steve responds with a shrug, "To be honest, I have no idea. The only ones who've really talked to her are Nat, Tony and Viz."

Stella overhears this as well and takes a deep breath. She was overall frustrated, so she made the decision to take a moment to herself outside. As soon as she left the house, going onto the front porch, however, she heard someone behind her. She didn't have to turn, trusting that the only person who would trail behind her would be Natasha. When she sat on the porch swing, as expected, the redhead took a seat next to her.

 

Soon after his smoke break, Pietro was standing near the edge of the woods, watching as best he could.

He speeds in a little closer, waiting just behind the house, his shoulder against the wall, and trying to listen to the conversations inside through the doors and windows. A small break in the backdoor (it never fully closed; they had to duct tape it during the winter) allowed sound to travel in and out of the house. He heard indistinct and unimportant conversations going on inside. Reactions, recommendations, incorrect and unapologetic conversations that would usually make Pietro's blood boil, but he found his limbs jittering a little. He felt his energy build up in his muscles. He had smoked too much, and now he was getting anxious.

He quietly cursed his jitteriness before cracking the door open just a little bit more. This caused all conversation inside to cease. He slowly stepped back from the door before the wind picked up. At first, it blew from the south, effectively being cut by the structure of the house, but it slowly shifted to blow in from the east, slowly opening the door. Pietro remained still and silent, hoping they would conclude that the wind had caused the door to open.

He slowly crept back, away from the door. Despite his current state, this discovery was a revelation. The door didn't creak. It didn't snap closed. It just would swing...

Without him telling his legs to do so, he ran. He hid for a moment as Clint comes out, inspecting the warm yet crisp dark air before shutting the door.

The buzz in his head came back. His body still felt jittery, but more with excitement this time. He had never bothered to try the backdoor before; Stella would barely even let him leave the woods. Now he sped around the house, making a wide circle to continue evading sight. He stopped at the other side of the house, grinning widely. He stopped at the very edge of the woods again, unable to stop a smile from showing.

He had a way to get her.

 

Everyone had retired soon after the excitement. Stella was moved to sleep in one of the kids' room since Sam insisted on sleeping on the couch in her spot. The entire house was silent and motionless from the hours of 10 pm to 2:30 am, when Pietro decided to make his move.

He entered the house silently. The door didn't creak. He didn't walk, but crawled to spread out his weight. The floor didn't creak.

He managed to make his way up the stairs only stepping on the stairs which didn't make a noise (he had listened in as everyone had made their way up earlier that night).

From there, Wanda's room was the second one on the left. He had seen her hexes in the window earlier that night, so he knew that was where she kept her clothes, at the very least.

He slowly opened the door. It creaked slightly, but not enough to wake anyone.

Pietro could hear his heart beat against his ribs as he enters. She was sleeping in his sweatshirt, and she seemed to be in deep sleep, enough where he could get closer and she might not wake up. He took a deep breath before smiling to himself. He kneels down next to her, wanting to be at her level. He hadn't seen her so up close in far too long.

"Я сумував за тобою," he spoke quietly, his voice just below a whisper. "Ви не знаєте, як гордий я з вас..."

_I missed you. You don't know how proud I am of you..._

She didn't move, not shifting or waking up. Pietro slowly brushes her hair out of her face and places a kiss on her cheek. She remained still, exhausted and needing the rest.

"I'll get you out of here... we can go home," he says, speaking in English this time, since he imagined it had been a while since she had spoken in one of her native tongues. "To Sokovia..."

This time, she shifts. As much as it pained Pietro, he stood up.

"Я тебе люблю. Я скоро повернусь..." he stepped towards the door. "залишитися сильним для мене, ладно?"

_I love you. I will be back soon... stay strong for me, okay?_

Wanda shifted again upon hearing his voice. She then begins to open her eyes. Pietro hid just outside of her door before she could see him.

"Hello?" Wanda asks tiredly. Upon hearing her voice, Pietro's heart beat twice as fast. He hears her bed squeak, like she was sitting up or moving. "Is someone there?"

He puts his palm on his forehead, suddenly regretting coming. He could have blown his cover. The others could have known. Wanda could have seen him. Wanda could have seen him.

Wanda _couldn't_ see him.

He hears her mattress squeak as she lays down again. Pietro sighs and slides down the wall, running one hand through his hair in an attempt to gather himself. He couldn't live like this. He was such a terrible brother... he had let her go weeks thinking him dead.

He leaves the house again, much quicker this time. Now, though, he had an idea.

He was going to speed up the process. He would wait until she was alone, then he would take her. She would be happy to be with him, right?

 

Wanda felt groggy in the morning. She had a vague but terrifying memory in her head of someone hovering over her. They spoke to her in Ukrainian, which she hadn't heard nor spoken in weeks, but when she tried to look at them, the dark figure remained for less than a millisecond before disappearing. She couldn't get any more sleep that night, not sure if what she had seen was real or not.

She laid there for maybe half an hour, running over the memory in an attempt that the figure would clear the more she thought about them. They wore all black and had a strangely familiar voice, like Pietro used to speak when he was scared. When she came to this revelation, she decided that she had to have made it up. She came to the conclusion that her subconscious was probably to blame... but he had said he was proud of her. That made her relax a bit.

She didn't even get up when the sun rose. She stayed in bed, a childish fear in her head that if she got up, she would see the person again. It was probably all in her head; she had probably just had a weird dream.

She got up only when she heard someone else in the hallway, not before. Even then, her heart pounded with fear...

She slipped out of bed and peers into the hallway, seeing the blonde, Stella, standing in the hallway. She was admiring a painting on the wall, one which Lila and Laura had painted together a couple years prior. It was red and pink blobs above green lines, an abstract version of a flower. Lila had made the general shapes and Laura had shaded it, shaped it, and made it clearer. Wanda steps out of her room, taking a deep breath. Stella then looks over at the other girl on the other end of the hall.

"Hey. Wanda, right?" She slowly approaches Wanda, extending a hand. Wanda slowly shakes her hand.

"Yeah. You're Stella," Wanda observes in turn.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard all about you," she pulls her hand away. "Nobody else is up, maybe we could make something to drink?"

Stella had heard Pietro the night before. She had heard him open Wanda's door. She had let him see his sister, she knew he would have come to her eventually, but was planning on talking to him in private later that day.

"Sure," Wanda replies. She smiles a little, and Stella notices that Pietro was right. She made her emotions very clear with her expressions. She smiled only with her lips, so Stella knew that her smile wasn't true. "How did you sleep last night?"

"I slept pretty good," Stella starts leading Wanda to the kitchen. Wanda followed silently, allowing her eyes to wander a little. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

Wanda was a little surprised by this question. For some reason, she figured that they didn't have any tea. She replies simply, "Honestly, tea."

"English breakfast or earl grey?" Pietro had told her of Wanda's two favorite morning teas. She preferred to have chamomile late at night, when she couldn't sleep, but liked earl grey and English breakfast when the sun was rising.

Wanda smiles to herself, "I like either. Which do you like?"

Stella doesn't like tea.

"English breakfast. I just know they have earl grey, that and chamomile, but chamomile is more of an evening drink."

Pietro had mentioned to her earlier that whenever she came in, to make sure Clint bought some loose-leaf for Wanda. Stella had done this, having added it to Clint's grocery list earlier that week.

Wanda was impressed by what Stella had said, "Really? Then let's make English breakfast."

Stella smiles falsely at Wanda, going to the kitchen and pulling out the canister of the leaves, "I had Clint buy it two or three days ago."

She handed the canister to Wanda, almost to tell her to make the tea. She had only had tea twice before, and never loose-leaf. She trusted that Wanda knew how to make it, so she allowed her to make it. Wanda now had a big smile on her face, and Stella had to admire it for a moment. Just as Pietro had said. Her entire face looked happy, "Wow... I haven't had tea in weeks..."

Stella smiled a little to herself. She felt a kind of pride in making Wanda happy. Maybe Pietro had instilled this feeling in her, but it became clear why he had told her what Wanda liked and disliked. It gave you a good feeling to give her something she liked. She had tired eyes but a distinct and pleasure-filled smile. If it was so easy to make her happy, if it felt so good... she should keep doing it.

"What would you want for breakfast? If you could have anything at all?" Stella asks.

Wanda looks up at her, "What would you want?"

"To be honest, whatever you want is perfect," Stella responds. This odd revelation made Stella understand so much more about Pietro. He cared so much because it made him feel good to make her smile. Stella wanted to feel good too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Thanks for 200 hits! I don't know if that means 200 of you guys are actively reading it but it's what I got. I also got like 8 kudos which is cool. I still have no idea how to use this website or if I'm doing something right or wrong or what but this is cool. Thanks!}


	11. Well-Rested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro makes some observations about Wanda that concern him. He realizes the root of her problems and begins fixing them for her.

Stella had made Wanda breakfast. She had given her tea (with two sugars and a splash of milk, like Pietro had told her was her favorite). Pietro had watched it all from nearby, hiding near the house. He couldn't hold back a smile when he saw her eyes light up. Seeing the two getting along made him happier than he could ever describe.

He had noticed that Wanda seemed a little sick. She was getting thinner, like she hadn't been eating much, though he knew that wasn't the case. She would attend almost every dining occasion they held, from suppers to snacking... it did, however, concern him.

She was laughing with Stella, holding a mug-occupied hand between her breasts, on the flat spot between them, like it was feeling her own heartbeat through her ribcage. He knew she usually did this when she was nervous. It made sense that she would assume this position, since she usually was nervous meeting new people.

He found himself smiling a little more. He would, after all, get to speak to her in a couple days. Until then, watching her through windows, from behind bushes... sneaking into her bedroom... it was enough.

Pietro saw her laugh at something Stella had said, nearly spilling her drink. She had scrunched her nose up and he knew that he had taught Stella well.

He then slowly stepped back into the forest, still smiling to himself. He sat down on a log, fairly close to the edge of the wood. He pulls a small box out of his pocket, a pack of Stella's spliffs. He pulls one out, looking through the window again. Sam, the man he had seen before, got up from the couch and joined the girls in their chatter. Pietro's eyes went to him instead. He puts the spliff between his lips, continuing to watch Sam.

He pulls a lighter from his pocket, finding it oddly hard to look away from Sam this time. He looks down before activating the lighter and using the flame to light the spliff. He waited a moment for the rolling paper to catch before taking a slow and deep drag, his eyes going up to see Sam again. That man made him feel something. Maybe it was distrust, but it made him feel either sick to his stomach or dizzy in his head. Whatever emotion he felt, it was ugly. He had a feeling that this feeling wouldn't go away anytime soon either.

His smoke went down the wrong pipe. He began coughing, covering his mouth and trying to be quiet. This guy inside had distracted him. He took another hit, more focused this time. His mind was getting foggy. The buzz in his head came back, making him feel a little mad at Sam. This feeling, though, soon left him.

Wanda coughs for a moment and puts her mug down, then grabs her tea again; Pietro attempted to read her lips as she spoke, but only caught 'sorry', 'not sure' and 'dry'. He tilts his head curiously at her as he took the jay between his fingers. He began to speak to himself, since nobody was around to hear him nor care that he was doing so.

"Why are you—" he stops, noticing how it had come out in English. He silently cursed himself again. He took one quick puff, more from frustration than anything. "Чому ти це робиш?"

_Why are you doing that?_

He then sees her smile. The conversation was continuing inside and he couldn't make out a single word of it. He sits down on a stump, putting the filter between his teeth and allowing it simply to rest there. He kept gazing through the window, an apathetic expression occupying his face. Burnt flakes drifted onto his shorts. Now he could only see two figures through the window: Stella and Sam. He slowly and deeply inhaled the smoke again. There was shifting inside. To him, however, everything was hazy. He couldn't focus on anything. He didn't mind, since he didn't particularly want to focus on anything. He didn't want to think either. He just wanted to watch the people inside, watch them shift.

Then he stood. He felt a slight tingle on his arm, where he had light scratches. They turned white for a moment before quickly fading. It was just an annoying knick from a particularly prickly bush next to him. He pulled the jay from between his lips, releasing his breath slowly before his eyes drifted. Wanda stood in the window now, alone. She was inspecting a spot on her arm, where a thin knick sat, oddly in the same pattern as his spot was going to be. He narrows his eyes to try and focus better, "Huh..."

The knick didn't break the skin, just creating a faint white trail where the skin was irritated. Pietro watches as Wanda shakes it off.

Then, a faint memory arises in his mind. Oddly, he hadn't put much thought into it, but Stella had previously mentioned that whenever he needed anything, it would be taken from Wanda. He was high when he was told, so the thought hadn't really meant anything to him, but now it suddenly clicked.

"Ой дерьмо..." he murmurs. "дерьмо, дерьмо, дерьмо...."

_Oh shit..._

She was so skinny because he had been given the energy she gained from eating. She was losing weight because of their weird connection.

Pietro sits down with this revelation. He was at fault. It was his fault.

He is a terrible brother.

 

Wanda woke up the next morning quite early. She had a faint memory of something scratching against her cheek and hearing a formal apology muttered in Sokovian in the same voice from the night before, but softer. Her dreams felt vivid, but she was sure it was just some subconscious issue. She was sure the dreams would go away soon enough. It would have been ridiculous of her to think there was someone in her room. That just didn't make any sense.

She wasn't tired or anything. Usually, it felt as though her night's rest had gone to nothing. She had gotten used to this feeling, but now... it was almost new for it to be gone.

She stood up. The first thing she did was open the blinds, more to tell the time than to invite in the light.

The sun wasn't yet up. The sky was a purplish navy, a brighter shade to the east; her window faced south, so she could see the full spectrum of east to west.

Before the sky could become cotton candy shades, she made her way downstairs. She was feeling great, so she decided to make everyone else's morning a bit better.

Sam was still sleeping on the couch, but he tended to wake up with a good attitude if breakfast was in the process. Steve had told her that during one of their chats earlier, and the day before had proven this correct. Stella didn't seem to be awake yet, since her door was still closed.

She began to hum to herself as she inspects the cabinets, pantry and fridge. She felt much better than she had the day before. Maybe now that the stress of returning was gone, she was better rested. After all, she felt her movements to be much easier. Before Pietro died, she could move without feeling tired. It seemed she was returning to that.

That made her smile a little more. Yet again, his name had come to her mind and she found it comfortable. He was a memory. She was starting to accept his death. Yes, the word 'death' itself made her feel uncomfortable, especially when used in the context of her brother's state, but it didn't matter. It bothered her before he died anyway.

"Auntie Wanda?" A young voice says from the stairwell. Cooper was awake. He had already combed his hair, as evidenced by the small streaks left by a wet comb. Wanda had assumed based on numerous instances like this that he enjoyed getting up early, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Good morning," she smiles softly. "How are you?"

"I'm good," the eleven-year-old says, walking over. "Can I help?"

"Help with what?" Wanda asks. She was still standing at the door of the fridge.

"Breakfast," he replies simply. "What are you making?"

Wanda smiles a little to herself, "Well, I haven't decided yet. What would you want?"

This made him pensive. Cooper looked around for a moment before saying, "What about French pancakes?"

"French pancakes?" Wanda asks, trying to figure out what that would be before Laura descended the staircase.

"He means crepes," she held Nathaniel in her arms. He was leaning against her, looking around the room. Wanda smiles a little upon seeing the bairn, waving. Nathaniel doesn't wave back but grants her a toothless smile. "And we can make crepes. Wanda, would you watch over Nate?"

Wanda nods and walks to her, taking the baby from Laura's arms and cradling him as Laura goes to the pantry to get the ingredients. Sam had managed to sleep through this, but what woke him instead was the floor creaking near the edge of the rug. Wanda leaves through the front door, going to the front porch to enjoy the warmth. A euphoric feeling flooded her mind as she looks up at the pink sky. She held Nathaniel close to her, letting him play with her hair while she silently awes.

Late May usually bought her this feeling of completion. When she was in high school, it was because she was usually so close to being out of school. Sokovian seasons were also fucked up, so late May was when the snow began to melt and heat surfaced. Once, it was warm enough where you could swim in the river every day for a month. There would be farming festivals. The peach trees near the border between Sokovia and Greece would always bloom. Sokovia was in the mountains, so it was much colder than the surrounding countries. She and her mother had a tradition where they would pick 20 of the largest peaches they had and make as many pies as they could in 12 hours.

She begins rubbing Nathaniel's back gently, smiling to herself. It should be May 25, so Sokovia should be warming up. Maybe she should return to Sokovia... Novi Grad was destroyed, but she could help them. She could volunteer, and her powers would make building or helping out in other fashions quite easy.

The purples of the sky faded into gentle pinks, and the breeze gently shifted the leaves. The pure serenity of the area made Wanda smile a little. She had options. She could volunteer in Sokovia, she could sit and listen to the birds, she could do anything. She even had people who would come with her and help her do whatever she decides on. Nathaniel yanks on her hair and shocks her back into reality. She looks at him.

"Well, that was rude," she gently shifts the little amount of hair he had. She then hears the front door creak open. Her captain walks out, holding two mugs of something.

"You never told us that you liked tea more than coffee. We would have gotten you tea earlier," he sits down on a piece of porch furniture, handing her one mug of tea. "You're up early."

"I couldn't stay in bed," she responds simply. "See, I was going to make breakfast but it turns out I'm not..." she tries to find the words. The phrasing existed in Sokovian, but it would be nonsense here. "I'm not as in charge as I thought I was."

Steve chuckles softly, "I get it."

Wanda sips her tea, quite thankful that Steve had brought it to her. Nathaniel squirms a little in her arms. She puts the tea down and adjusts him to give him a more comfy area to rest.

Steve watches her, tilting his head a little. He couldn't help himself from smiling a little when he watches her look back up at him. The light in the sky was a pale mix of pink and orange, and the way Wanda's eyes reflected it ever so gently pulled him in. He then notices something: her eyes weren't tired.

"How did you sleep last night?" He asks. She looked refreshed.

"Really well," she says, like she had almost been waiting for the question to come up. Her tone held excitement, her face lit up a little. "I've been having trouble sleeping since Pietro passed, but I'm honestly feeling much better."

"Really? That's good," he leans against the arm of the porch chair. "And why do you think that is?"  
Wanda shrugs softly before looking around again, "I think I'm just starting to feel much better."

It was true. There was no simple explanation for it. She had already found herself moving on from the loss of her brother, and now her body was finally catching up with her mind. That was the only plausible explanation.


	12. Green Means Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow days lead to a hike in the woods. Wanda and Steve take the day to themselves, surrounded by nature and just allowing themselves to speak.

After breakfast, there was honestly nothing to do. Clint and the kids were working in the garden, most everyone was watching tv... it was a nice, slow day. Steve had asked if anyone wanted to go explore the woods, but Stella declined and from there, everyone else dropped out one by one.

Wanda, however, changed her mind. She wanted to move a little, plus, she was finally starting to bond with the captain. For some odd reason, Stella had tried to stop her, however, Wanda didn't care what she said and believed that Stella shouldn't care about what she did. It only affirmed her lust to go with him.

Within only a couple minutes (the amount of time it took for Steve to get his shoes on and two water bottles together), Wanda was standing out on the porch. She had a bag over her arm, but it didn't have much in it. It had a camera (Laura had wanted her to take a picture if she had seen anything interesting), a flashlight (in case they got lost and night came) and a small first-aid kit with little more than a couple Band-Aids and Neosporin. Clint had insisted that she also brought a rope, but she didn't know why she would ever need something like that. It was a day hike, not a camping trip.

When her family used to go out for hikes, they would bring a couple water bottles and nothing more. Here, they did more than prepare.

Steve walks out next to her and Wanda smiles at him as the memories part for the present. He says, "Ready?"

"You say that like this is something to be ready for," she rolls her eyes before stepping off of the porch and starting to walk towards the trees.

Where Clint lived was just less than illegal. He lived right on the border of a county park. Wanda had heard him refer to it as Dater. It was fairly mountainous but it wasn't much for hiking. The only reason it was worth it was because it was early summer and everything was green.

Steve lagged behind Wanda as she begins walking. She seemed sure of where she was going, as if she had been through these woods hundreds of times. The way she held her shoulders back were noteworthy. She was almost leaned back a little to have a wider view of the area. She looked so relaxed as she stepped, one foot in front of the other. She looked around, her expression being hidden by her hair which she had neglected to tie back.

When she tucked her hair behind her ear to grant Steve a look at her face, he saw that she was smiling. It was calm but euphoric.

"You seem happier to be here," Steve smiles to himself as he says.

Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she looks back at him, "It's nice. It's cooler under the trees... the sun doesn't bear down as much."

She stops to let Steve catch up, thinking that she had just walked too quickly. Without thought, she takes his hand as he begins walking under the canopy of green. Little light made its way down to their level, but what did was soft and inviting. She stepped a little in front of him again by accident, keeping a gentle hold of his hand while she looks around to see any creatures.

Steve didn't really think anything of their fingers being intertwined. Wanda kept walking at a steady pace, just quick enough to make it clear to Steve how excited she was to be out here, but slow enough where she could appreciate the surroundings.

 

When they reached their first water break, they had been walking for just over two hours, but Wanda didn't feel tired. She hardly felt thirsty. She didn't feel anything but a serene joy. The pollen made the air smell sweet, so she felt like she was being fueled by that as well. Steve had, however, told her that drinking water would mean that they could both keep going for longer. She considered this more an opportunity to just sit and talk.

The walk had mostly been filled with a strangely comfortable silence. Neither dared to break the quiet, more because neither wanted to. It didn't feel awkward or tense.

They sat on an uncomfortable rock, but Wanda kept her eyes up, her eyes were attracted to a squirrel up in the trees, jumping from branch to branch before settling in one spot. She gently leans into Steve after a moment.

"Why didn't we do this before?" Her voice was gentle, quiet. It was almost like she tried to blend into the rustle of the woods as she takes one of Steve's hands in both of hers. Their hands had only separated just before they had sat down. Wanda had taken comfort in the callouses of his knuckles, which she had begun running over with her thumb about an hour in. She now felt them with her other hand.

Steve glances at her, smiling a little, "I never thought to. Plus, the last couple weeks haven't exactly been full of free time..."

Wanda smiles a little more, feeling his knuckles with one hand while the other felt his palm. Her gentle fingers trace his skin, feeling each ridge.

"That's a good point," she says quietly. "This is nice, though. It's peaceful."

She looks up at the treetops. High, thin, wispy clouds grazed the otherwise deep blue sky. The sun was hidden behind a cluster of leaves, so looking up was fairly comfortable. She didn't even need to squint.

"It's almost a good thing nobody else came along... it would have somehow divulged into chaos..." Steve shakes his head before looking at Wanda. She didn't seem to be paying attention anymore, more lost in the atmosphere than she was in her thoughts. "I'm sorry I made you leave."

"I needed to leave anyway," she replies, revealing that she was, in fact, paying at least a bit of attention. "I needed to reset."

"And now that you've reset?" Steve asks, holding and gently squeezing the hand whose fingers tickled against his palm. Wanda looks at him, expecting a followup. After a moment of silence, she looks away as she mutters her answer.

"Now that I've reset... I'm better," she replies simply, pulling her hands from Steve's. She felt a sudden embarrassment in holding onto them for so long. It was probably a weird thing to do... she didn't know that Steve had interpreted that as him doing something wrong. There was a weird air around them now that she had pulled her hand away. It was awkward. Even worse, it felt gross.The sweat stuck to her skin, her hair was clumped to the back of her neck. They weren't supposed to be awkward. The moment wasn't supposed to be awkward. Holding hands definitely shouldn't have made them awkward. Something felt natural about the way their fingers tangled together so perfectly. Her hands were cold enough to cool down his, and his hands were heated enough to make hers warm.

Steve purses his lips before standing up, "Maybe we should keep walking."

Wanda takes a deep breath, "Maybe we should..."

She stands and begins walking again. Steve pauses to allow her to get ahead before following. She kept looking around the area before looking down and folding her hands. She messed with her fingers, like she did when she was thinking. Steve, for some reason, hoped she was thinking about him.

 

Steve and Wanda came home past supper, since they had stayed out for too long. The skies were not colorful but were instead darkening shades of purple with the approaching night. Tony and Vision were tasked with clearing the table and washing the dishes, so there was no chance of neither Steve nor Wanda getting any scraps.

Wanda was in her room at this point, pulling off her shirt and replacing it with a tank top to sleep in. She didn't mind missing supper; she wasn't all that hungry anyway. She suspected that Steve, however, would not be okay with missing supper. She suspected that he needed much more food than she did in order to continue on, but what she didn't expect was a knock on her door.

"Wanda?" Steve asks quietly from the other side of the wood. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," she pulls her tank top over her stomach and opens up the door, stepping aside to let him in, which he refused to do.

"No, I just wanted to know... do you want to go to dinner tonight?" He asks. Wanda tilts her head at him curiously. "We missed dinner here and Clint said that there are some restaurants in town that we could go to."

Wanda smiles a little to herself, "Yeah, I would love that. Only thing is that you have to choose the restaurant."

"Gladly," Steve had this kind of infectious smile on his face which made Wanda smile too.

"Alright. I'll get dressed and meet you outside," she smiles a little and slowly closes the door, leaving Steve on the other side of the door. She tugs off her shorts and begins changing.

Steve smiles a little to himself. He was glad he didn't have to go out alone, but it felt like he could trust Wanda.

"Mr. Rogers's got himself a date," Sam says in a sing-song voice as he passes Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes, "It's not a date."

"That's what they always say," Sam keeps walking, but Steve was unsatisfied with the ending of the conversation, so he trails behind.

"What do you mean by that?" Steve asks.

"I'm just saying. You can pretend that you don't think it's a date, but we'll all know better," Sam replies, continuing to walk. He goes to the living room. "You should go get ready for your date."

"Hold up, Steven Grant Rogers has a date?" Tony asks, starting to walk over. "With who?"

"I don't have a date! Wanda and I missed dinner, so we're getting dinner in town," Steve sighs angrily. Wanda then walks down the stairs, putting her hair up in a ponytail as she walks. Tony looks between Wanda and Steve, then starts walking away and gesturing for Sam to follow.

Wanda walks over to Steve, "Ready to go?"

Steve grabs the keys and nods, the anger he held for the conversation before slowly fading away. They leave the house and Wanda starts walking to the car. She gets into the passenger seat as Steve walks around and gets in the driver's seat.

Wanda looks out the window. The sky was this sad shade of blue. The sun was nearly gone, but phantom light pollution made it hard to see many stars.

Steve looks at her and gently takes her soft hand in his as he keeps driving. She holds his in return, smiling a little to herself for some reason. She liked the contact. His hands were warm, too. She didn't feel around for callouses anymore, since she had ended up mapping out and remembering where each one lies.

The drive was uneventful and filled with the familiar comfortable silence. She keeps watching the sky, since glimpses of stars would pass by her line of vision every couple seconds, making her smile.

"You believe in heaven, captain," she says. "Why?"

"Because it's the way I was raised. Plus, the idea of there being a nice place when I die is comforting," he replies, though unsure of the topic.

"So... if I eventually die, will I go to heaven forever or will I—" she was cut off.

" _If_ you die?" He didn't like how deep the conversation was getting anyway. Frankly, he didn't like seeing her so serious. He also feared that the conversation would lead back to her brother. The distraction would hopefully catch her off guard.

Wanda realized what she said when he pointed it out and began to laugh, "Wow. I did say that, didn't I? Sorry..."

"No, I kind of like that," he chuckles softly, glancing between Wanda and the road. "I'll start saying that. Not when. If."

Wanda rolls her eyes again and playfully shoves him while more laughs escape her lips, but Steve could listen to her laugh forever. It was kind of cute, the way she scrunched up her nose and smiled with every part of her face.

Her laugh, however, faded away. She still was smiling a little, but not to the extent she had been before. She was calmed now, but she still had a sort of peaceful smile.

"So... where are we going?" She asks once silence had returned.

"I'm not sure yet. We'll drive until we find somewhere, I guess," he shrugs. He keeps driving, not turning on the radio in the hopes that conversation would return.

 

After less than half an hour, they were back in town and Steve parked in a fairly crowded pub. Steve walked around the car to open her door like a gentleman, but she was already out of the car and messing with her jacket. She hadn't worn it in several weeks since the faux red leather had been ruined in the wash, but the torn and faded material went fairly well with her outfit. Technically, it wasn't even her jacket, but Natasha didn't want it, so she didn't feel an ounce of guilt about taking it.

Steve then extends an arm for Wanda to take but she just shakes her head to try and tell him that that wasn't necessary. She walks past him and starts going inside. Steve follows her, though managing to open the door to the restaurant before she reached it.

Inside, the entire venue smelled vaguely of smoke, despite the 'No Smoking' sign shown prominently in the entrance. She supposed that the patrons had perhaps had a cigarette outside before coming in.

Wanda looks around. She takes Steve's hand again as they walk to find themselves a table, since there was another sign that read 'Seat Yourself'.

The pub had a jukebox in the corner, where a trio of kids were snickering as they look through Tom Jones songs. Wanda watched them for a moment curiously.

Steve follows her eyes and then smiles a little, "They have a jukebox. Maybe later on, we could request something."

"Captain, no offense, but I don't think you'd enjoy most of the music on that," she slides into a booth, watching him sit across the table.

"What music do you think I listen to?" He asks, chuckling.

"Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday..." she says, trying to think of more examples despite her not being able to remember any more at all. She had only really heard one or two songs by each, and both times, she didn't really pay any attention. "People from your time."

"My time? Geez. Am I that old?"

"You got frozen!" She giggles. "And frankly, I don't like all that old music."

"You know, Wanda..." he says playfully, leaning back a little. He looked like he was almost genuinely offended, but he was probably also just being playful. He never minds the old jokes, since he was, in truth, not that much older than Wanda biologically. Wanda just smiles at him.

"What?"

"Why don't I play some music for you on the jukebox?" Steve proposes. Wanda rolls her eyes almost challengingly. "So... Cab Calloway or The Andrews Sisters?"

"Who are those people?" Wanda asks. Upon seeing Steve's offended expression, she adds on: "I've never heard of them."

"It's settled then. We're going to listen to both," Steve gets up hastily and rushes to the jukebox. Wanda leans back a little, figuring that the night would definitely be an interesting one.


	13. Gin and Tonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda has her first real drink. She teaches Steve how she learned how to dance and he teaches her how he learned how to dance. They find themselves growing closer to one another before they return home.

Pietro was not pleased with the captain spending time with his sister.

Watching them from a distance made him less wary, since they just seemed to be walking together. However, when they stopped for a water break, he saw that they had been holding hands. He suddenly became furious. Stella had been sent in there to take her place... but here she was, bonding with the captain... he knew that Stella was already getting friendly with many of the others, but he didn't like how she and Steve were bonding so much. If they were too close, then Wanda would be more wary to leave.

To make it worse, it didn't end when they went home. Steve and Wanda also went to the car, leaving the house. Pietro had to follow.

They were talking too much. They were smiling and laughing in the car, but it wasn't Wanda's normal laugh. It was much more of a giggle than how she usually laughs. It made Pietro more than suspicious. Why had he never even seen her laugh like that?

 

The pub was near empty before the pair even ordered their drinks.

The bar had mostly been filled by a group of middle-aged men, but they left almost as a unit. As soon as the first one left, all the others found a reason to leave as well. Because of this, Steve didn't feel all too bad about completely taking over the music.

First, he started with the Andrews Sisters. They didn't listen too intently to them, just chatting for a while before a waitress approaches them.

Steve orders a gin and tonic. Some label of gin Wanda's never heard of (though she isn't very acquainted with many brands of many types of drinks) come from his lips and makes her mind wander a little before the waitress turns to her. A new thought comes to Wanda's head.

"I'll have the same," she says, kind of unsurely. She pulls out her I.D. and shows it to her before the waitress leaves again, having dropped her name. Wanda didn't remember her name at all. She wasn't even listening.

"I didn't know you liked gin," Steve says, cracking a smile at her.

"Well, I've never actually had it before," she says quietly. Steve cocks his head to the side. Wanda keeps talking. "Frankly, I've never had more than a sip of anything before."

"Huh. Really? Isn't the drinking age 18 in Sokovia? So... you would have been allowed to..." Steve tries to speculate, but Wanda shakes her head.

She pulls up a hand, conjuring a small ball of hexes into her hand, "Experiments. Neither my brother nor I were allowed to. No fluids besides water allowed."

As she dissipates the ball, Steve was smiling at her a little more.

"Well, I'm proud to be with you for your first drink," he chuckles a little.

The waitress returns with the drinks. Without looking away from Wanda, Steve informs her that they would wait a while before ordering any food.

Steve starts drinking his gin and looks at Wanda, "Go ahead."

Wanda smiles a little, feeling heat coming to her cheeks. She takes the drink and drinks it, then puts it down. It felt... gross to drink. It felt guilty. Alternatively, it also felt liberating. The actual taste of the drink wasn't important; what was important was what it meant. Watered-down gin was the most alcoholic, adult thing she had ever really had to drink. She wasn't under supervision or anything, but... she was a good kid. More importantly, she was a good kid who had never been drunk. She was a good kid who had never really done anything to mature herself.

"Mixed feelings," is all she said. The thoughts in her head were still racing, so she sips it a bit more. This time, the taste reached her. It didn't taste good, but it didn't taste bad either. It was fine, but it burned just a little as she swallowed. Steve was kind of gazing at her.

"You hate it."

"Well, it doesn't taste great..."

"You said you've had a sip of something. What was that?" He asks.

"My mother let me try her wine," she looks down a little, feeling a little ashamed.

"I didn't have my first drink for a while either. I was 22, I want to say," Steve says, still smiling a little. "It was... a pinot grigio from 1920. It also, coincidentally, was the worst drink I've ever had. Nobody bothered to tell me that you aren't supposed to age pinot grigio." 

Wanda chuckles about that and toys with the tiny straw on the side of her glass. Without thinking, she sipped more of her gin. It was in an odd, tall glass, so she had more to actually drink. She was kind of getting used to the taste. Despite the ice in it, it tasted warm. The tonic was just plain bad and she regretted ordering it with tonic, but the gin tasted fine. It tasted sharp, something she didn't know she could taste.

"I've come to a conclusion," she says, putting the drink down. "The gin, I like. The tonic... not so much."

Steve chuckles, "Really? You like gin?"

"It's different, but yes," she chuckles. She drinks more of her drink. "I wouldn't be averse to trying something new, too."

 

Wanda likes gin, rum, red wine and vodka. She can tolerate beer (she'd had some sort of standard drink like Miller or Budweiser) and tequila (she can barely tolerate tequila, but she tolerates it nonetheless). On the other hand, she does not like brandy (though she's alright with cognac), whiskey and scotch. She had only a sip of most of the drinks, just to try them, but she did end up having a little more red wine with her supper. She had dinner with Steve and she was, at this point, fairly drunk.

Some Cab Calloway was playing as Wanda holds both of Steve's hands, attempting to show him the choreography to a dance her father had taught her, though it definitely did not go with the music. Minnie the Moocher was setting the tone, but Wanda steered clear of the tune, just making up her own.

She stumbles a little while trying to wrap an arm around Steve's neck. Their bodies were parallel so her back touched his chest, with her arm in an uncomfortable but graceful pose. She had done a poor job of explaining how to actually do the dance, and Steve was honestly more focused on deciphering what she's trying to do.

"Now you put your hand..." she takes Steve's hand and puts it on her hip, but the one on the opposite side of her body from where his arm came from. Her body was pressed gently against his, but it felt natural. Her body fit perfectly against his; the way her waist concaved matched perfectly with his. She then giggles a little and says. "Now you pull my hip and spin me around..."

Steve gently pulls her hip at an angle, spinning her as she had told him to. He felt her hand slip from the skin on the back of his neck. She steps out from him, stumbling again because of the uneven floorboards. Since Steve still had a hand on her waist, he manages to stop her from falling, helping her regain her balance by gently gripping onto her waist. She was far lighter than him, so he anchored her.

She laughs it off, holding onto his arm gently. She then places a hand on Steve's, extending her other arm out before stepping towards him again. Before he can ask what happens next, Wanda ducks under his arm. He simply watches, mostly watching her smile in that way she does when she's truly happy. She drops his hand and says, "That's all I remember..."

"Well, maybe I could show you how to dance," he offers. That makes Wanda only smile more.

"Yes!"

She walks to be before him, "You lead this time."

"Well, we can start..." he pulls away from her, going to the jukebox again. The glass felt weirdly sticky, but he had come to almost ignore it. He chooses a song that sounded like it would be slow, then smiles when he hears it. He walks up to her and takes both her hands. "With a slow dance, like a waltz, kind of."

He places one hand of hers on his shoulder, then placing a hand on her waist, gently pulling her a little closer.

Wanda looks up at him, waiting for him to show her more. When he sees the way she looks at him, he feels... warmer. She didn't look so shy anymore.

"Step with me," he says, stepping slowly in a pattern. Wanda looks down at their feet and mimics his movement, though her feet barely hit the ground in the right place, stumbling just a bit. Whenever she stumbled, all she did was laugh it off. He then pulls his hand from her waist, instead holding his hand above her head and gently helping her spin. She slowly spins, instinctively keeping time with how they had been dancing before.

When they return to their former position, Wanda resets closer to Steve, resting her head on his chest. Her elbow hooked lazily around his neck, since she was getting tired. That made sense, since they had been at the bar for around three hours. It was nearly 2 A.M., too. Dancing was the last thing they were going to do; Steve had even paid the check already.

"Wanda?" Steve asks. "Are you tired? Do you want to go home?"

She nods slowly. Steve nods and pulls away. Wanda pulls away as well, beginning to walk to the car alone. Her walk wasn't near straight; she stumbled and slipped and her steps stuttered against the uneven flooring. Steve then walks over and takes her hand, keeping her upright again.

"Are we going to tell Clint that we were drinking?" She asks.

"I don't think he'll need to ask," Steve answers, bringing her to the car and opening the passenger door for her. Wanda climbs in.

"Are you sure you can drive?" She had seen Steve have more drinks than she did.

"I'm sure," he replies with a soft smile. Since he couldn't get drunk due to the serum, he could drive as normal. He closes the door and gets in the driver's seat, beginning to drive them home.

 

It was past 3 A.M. when their car drove over the hill and into sight.

Pietro had followed them to a pub and smoked a jay outside before going in and drinking, keeping his head down and covered by a hat. He watched them eat and laugh, and he watched them drink. He watched the captain get his sister intoxicated before dancing too close with her. When she began showing him a Sokovian dance, Pietro couldn't watch anymore. Instead, he ran home as quickly as he could to think things through.

They were too close. He had to convince Wanda to leave with him, but how was he supposed to do that if she was there with someone else?

He had to tell her whenever she got home.

 

Steve drove around for longer than he expected. At first, it was a wrong turn made right out of the pub, but then it was Wanda's chatter. Clint always had some water bottles in the car just in case of emergency, so Steve had Wanda drink two to sober up, and it brought out a very talkative person he didn't know was in there.

She would hold his hand and keep telling stories. Steve didn't mind. He took a couple detours, allowing her to share stories of her past. All her stories were light and trivial. She talked about her first and only pet (a rabbit named Inka), her brief experience in high school and the time she traveled illegally to London and back to Novi Grad with her brother when they were teenagers. Throughout every story, no matter how vaguely and ungracefully she worded it, Steve couldn't find himself able to stop listening.

When she finished a story, she would usually find a place to pick a new story. From her hitchhiking story, she recounted her trip to the boardwalk in Novi Grad, then to a story of nearly being arrested. It was absolutely fascinating to Steve. She could recount stories from stories like a Russian nesting doll of memories: each layer pulled away revealed yet another, equally interesting but completely different layer. She had stories from before she had her powers... more importantly, she had stories with happy endings. She had stories of getting home safe and everything ending up the same, except now she has this new experience.

A couple times, the air filled with that comfortable silence. The first time, Wanda started investigating Steve's hand before she found a scar he had gotten during a fight in his youth. She then found a story to tell from that. The second time, she looked out into the forest and explained to him why she enjoyed the mountains over the beach, mostly telling him about the beauty of forestry and how soothing miles of nothing but botany could be.

When Steve couldn't reasonably waste any more time, he just drove home. Wanda ran out of stories to tell when there were maybe five minutes left in the drive. Silence remained for a couple minutes before Wanda laughed out of nowhere and said, "Wow. 3 A.M."

They pulled into the driveway and Wanda got out, her legs surprisingly sore from the long car ride. She was mostly sober now, her head felt like it was buzzing just a little bit but she was otherwise able to think fairly clearly.

Steve walks up next to her, taking her hand gently and leading her into the house, "Thank you for getting dinner with me."

"It was fun," she says, swaying just a little while Steve gets the front door for her. Wanda looks him up and down before walking through the doorway. She had never really been able to talk and connect with him in private before. They were always with a group, but today had just been him and her. She was beginning to realize how genuinely sweet he is. "Thank you for bringing me to get dinner with you."

Steve smiles a little and extends a hand to her, "The pleasure was all mine."

Wanda takes his hand happily, allowing him to lead her up the stairs. She was reminded yet again of how warm his hand was when it sat in hers. She then looks up at him, "Sorry for talking so much on the way home. I'm sure it got annoying after a while."

That made Steve kind of angry. All he says is, "That's nothing to apologize for. I liked it. I learned a lot about you."

Wanda nods before they reach her bedroom. Yet again, she thanks him, "Seriously... I appreciated tonight. It was exactly what I needed."

Without another word, she receded into her room, smiling to herself.


	14. I Want To Talk To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro enters Wanda's room in the night to tell her the truth. 
> 
> (Side note: I've begun actually writing this again, so sorry for the hiatuses and such! This is just a thing I do for fun but if you guys enjoy it, leave a comment saying so! Thank you for reading!)

Pietro was in her closet. He had hidden himself in the house once he had seen the car over the horizon. Her closet was closed, so he opened it and hid in there, his heart already pounding just at the thought of speaking to her. He imagined the way her green eyes would light up and sparkle with pure joy, he imagined how she felt so small in his arms as they hug... he imagined how happy she would be to have her big brother back in her life. She would smile and cry with joy and they would be able to catch up, then he would ask her to leave with him and she would grin and hug him again. They could leave together and she would ask about everywhere she had ever wanted to go: "What about London? Or Edinburgh? Maybe even Rome! Or we could go further, maybe Tokyo?" He would smile and nod, tell her that they could go anywhere they wanted to. She would hug him yet again, thank him...

But his thoughts were interrupted by his sister, who had just entered the house.

He heard their little conversation as they walked up the stairs, and when Wanda walked in, his breath hitched. She was so close, and she was moving around. She was awake... and so, so close... nerves began in his stomach, a knot that made him second-guess himself. She closed her bedroom door before pulling off her clothes article by article and dressing in pajamas instead. Pietro looked away as she changed, but as soon as she was done, his eyes were on her again. She had a smile that grew and shrunk, but she had enjoyed the night, and was obviously reviewing it in her mind. She went into the bathroom off of her room, but came back a couple minutes later.

She got into bed and turned off the light she had been using to change. She wrapped herself around a pillow, giving her something to cuddle onto. She always did that. She loved sleeping with someone; when they could only afford a one-bedroom apartment, they would sleep together, since they had no other option. It seemed she had gotten used to that... it kind of made him relieved, since she was still the Wanda he knew.

He stood petrified, his hand resting on the wood of her paneled closet as he watched her through the cracks. Finally, he took a deep breath and opens the door, slowly approaching his sister, who had already fallen asleep due to being so exhausted from all the drinks and dancing.

He sits next to her in the bed, gently rubbing her side to try and wake her up without startling her. She didn't move, so he sighs and gently says, "Wanda, I want to talk to you..."

Her eyes slowly open again and she turns to face whoever was next to her, then her eyes widened and she prepared to scream, since the dark figure didn't look like anyone she knew was in the house. Pietro could see her terrified expression and quickly climbs onto the bed and covers her mouth, whisper-shouting to her, "Wanda! It's me! It's Pietro! Don't scream!"

She didn't believe him at all. She punched him in the jaw, then cast a weak hex at him to push him back and away from her. Pietro nearly fell off the bed but balanced himself before having a minute to rub his jaw, which had been hurt by her hit. He made a mental note about how much physically stronger she was now. The lamp was turned on and he looks at her, giving her a clear look at his face.

Wanda stares at him, completely silent. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, since she was panicking. This couldn't be her brother; her brother is dead. So who was it? Was it a dream? She then slowly crawls forward on the bed, touching his face gently. She let her fingers feel his scruff, his jaw, his cheek, his hair... just examining him to try and find any indication that he wasn't real. She mutters to herself, "God, why'd I have to have this dream right now...?"

"This isn't a dream, Wanda," he replies, taking her hands in his as tears begin to fill his eyes, since he was the one getting emotional. "I'm back..."

"You... You're back? You're not back," she shakes her head, slowly crawling back from him, almost wanting to believe the words she said. "It-It's been nearly a month, you... you..."

"I am," he smiles, extending a hand to her again. "I'm back..."

Wanda's lip quivers, though the edges of her mouth turn up in a smile. She ignores his hand and practically lunges at him, hugging him and starting to cry into his shoulder. He hugs her close to him, holding onto her like it was the last time they would ever touch again. He gently brushes his fingers through her hair, kissing her cheek softly. He felt her body tremble softly as she buries her face in his shirt, breathing in his smell. He wraps his body around hers, rubbing her back gently to try and soothe her. Neither wanted to pull away, but Wanda wanted to talk. Pietro couldn't stop grinning, happy to hold his little sister in his arms again.

"How?"

Pietro just keeps rubbing her back, not responding. He felt ashamed now, since Wanda had to endure so much for him to come back, and even after he came back...

"H-How long?"

"It's been a couple weeks," he replies quietly. Wanda pulls away, stroking his face again.

"A couple weeks?" She was absolutely heartbroken. "How long were you dead for?"

"Only a couple days..." he looks down, shame washing over him like a wave. "I should have come to you immediately, but I wasn't allowed to... even now, nobody can know about this."

"You weren't allowed to?" She asks, pulling away from him and sitting before him, putting some space between them. "What's going on? How did you come back?"

Yet again, he remained silent.

"Pietro, answer my question," she had tears beginning in her eyes again; she was practically pleading. He cups her face and wipes away her tears with his thumb, speaking slowly and with thought.

"I shouldn't tell you that here," he says. "I... I just couldn't stay away for any longer..."

He embraces her, but she was reluctant to hug back, "Were you the one who came into my room?"

"Yes... I came in here twice..." he looks down. "I thought you were sleeping..."

Wanda pauses for a moment before saying slowly, "Did you come back around May 7th?"

He nods slowly, still ashamed of everything, "Yes. You had to give blood for me... and I apologize infinitely for that... and a couple times, I was hurt and you took the pain... I'm sorry for all of it..."

Then she begins to smile, since everything was fitting together. She was so relieved to hear his confirmation, since that meant that nothing had been or is wrong with her. She then hugs him tighter, her arms wrapping under his arms and clutching onto his shoulders. She sniffles with a mix of joy and grief, "I... I missed you..."

Pietro smiles widely and kisses the side of her head repeatedly, "I missed you too..."

He kept kissing her hair, his lips curled into a smile. Wanda was silent in his arms, enjoying the way his body wrapped around hers, making her feel protected and safe like when they were kids... it had been so long since she had felt so nostalgic. They just stayed quiet, but both had thoughts racing through their mind. Wanda felt betrayed, but not really. She felt like she had been lied to, but it didn't matter. She felt like he should have come forth sooner, but she also didn't care about it.

She thought about how she had moved on from him too quickly. She should have mourned him more, since he is her brother. But he should have come back sooner. He should not have let her mourn so much, since he wasn't dead.

But she thought she hadn't mourned him all that much in the first place. She thought she had moved on too fast.

"We should leave," he starts to smile a little. "We must leave. Let's start packing."

He slowly stood up, but felt Wanda take his wrist to stop him. He looks back at her as she still sat on her bed, crossed-legged. Her eyebrows were furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern.

"What? No," Wanda shakes her head. "You get to stay. Here, with me, with the Avengers. We can be happy here."

Pietro's lips part, but he looks at her kind of oddly, "Do you hear yourself? You can't stay here. You're a prisoner."

"I am not a prisoner," she says, standing up slowly. She stands before Pietro, inspecting his features closer as she rests a hand on his cheek, trying to find any of his tells in his face. "Who told you that?"

"It's obvious to see," he says, but someone else had obviously told him this. He just didn't think like that. Wanda knew her twin. He wasn't usually paranoid like this. "You tried to leave and they had someone drag you right back here. You're not allowed to leave without someone accompanying you."

Wanda stares at him oddly, "You wouldn't let me leave the flat alone when we were teenagers. You would go out with me to protect me or to give me company. It's not that I'm not allowed to, it's that they don't want something to happen to me."

Pietro looks at her, shaking his head, "No, Wanda. It isn't any good will. They're controlling you."

"They are not controlling me," she was getting more offended with his words and was almost scowling at him now. "I am not under anyone's control, I'm just-"

"They won't let you even go on walks alone," he says, getting a little angry. Wanda's hexes shut the door, since they were both getting louder.

"I don't want to go on walks alone, and they make it so I don't have to," she says, getting angrier. "Pietro, this is why we always fight when we're together. You underestimate how much I know is going on. You think you know everything and everyone else is wrong!"

"You underestimate how easily you trust other people," he shakes his head. Wanda just stared at him, genuinely offended by his words. She felt insulted and began to nearly shout

"You know what? Why did you even come back? You had already kept the fact that you're alive from me for, what, three weeks? Why not make it four? Or five?" She says, getting more angry, though tears began in her eyes. "You didn't care enough to tell me when it happened, why should you care enough to try and save me from a prison that, friendly reminder, I'm not even in?"

"I'm sorry, I apologize. I- I couldn't find the right moment," he says. That really set Wanda off.

"The right moment? What about when I was sitting here, praying to God that you were in a better place? What about when I was crying because I felt like I was responsible? Or when I told myself that you would finally get to see mama and papa and that everything was okay because I couldn't handle any other explanation? What about when I spent hours in the hospital because I woke up in the middle of the night and vomited blood? Or what about when I had to go through five different people asking me how I got bruises I didn't know the origin of? Or when all my teammates thought I was hurting myself because of your death? What about when I ran away for three days because Steve touched my quote-unquote 'dead' brother's jacket? Do you know how much happier I would have been to know that you were still with me? Why now? Why when I've moved on and accepted that you were gone? How on earth is this the right moment?"

At this point, she was fully shouting, tears were in her eyes and one manages to fall as soon as she finished and she was too heated to wipe it. Pietro was staring at her, unable to form sentences. Guilt washed over him yet again, choking him. He wanted to explain everything to her, he wanted to kneel at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, he wanted to take back every bit of pain his death had caused, but all he could do was stand and stare. He had made her worked up like this.

Finally, he managed to just hug her again, "I'm so sorry... for everything... I messed up, and I want to correct myself..."

He was completely shocked when he was pushed away. She wrapped her arms around herself, "An apology won't do it, Pietro. An apology shows nothing but that you want me to stop being angry with you. You have to prove that you're sorry, because I don't think you are."

Pietro stares again, then opens his mouth to speak before Wanda shakes her head.

"If you want to be forgiven, then you have to prove that you're sorry. I hurt for a long, long time because of your death. You're the one who put a barrier between us, and... I'm glad you're alive, but you didn't tell me," she sighs. "Until you can prove that you're sorry that you kept it from me in the first place, I don't want you here. You hurt me, and I... I need time to process this..."

Pietro swallows hard, not sure what he could do to prove himself. He says quietly, "I understand..."

He walks up to her to kiss her forehead, but she stepped away from him. Pietro looks at her one more time, since she had never really done that before. As he begins to leave, Wanda speaks up one last time, "Pietro... I love you. I missed you. Don't think I don't. I just... I'm angry. You should have told me... but I want to see you again. I want you to come back soon."

He smiles a little as he glances back at her, "I'll be back tomorrow night. Sleep well, okay? I'll do better."

Wanda smiles a little too, getting back in bed. She pulled the sheets up so they came over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and felt Pietro's scruff brush against her forehead, soon followed by the light turning off and a barely audible whoosh. The rage and anguish from the past couple minutes had quickly faded. She started to smile a little, thinking. She had her twin brother back again, and soon, maybe he could live with her, with everyone. She was certainly glad to have him back, but she felt like she had to go through her grief yet again to actually accept it.

Pietro was different, that was for certain, but that could have been expected. He had died and come back, which, frankly, is a lot to process for her and she wasn't even the one who visited the other side... how was he even supposed to move on from something like that? How was she supposed to process his un-death? Maybe he did have his reasons for keeping it secret... but Wanda wasn't sure she could.


End file.
